BUY “FILM MOI or NARCISSUS IN THE DARK” by Robert Patrick

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FILM MOI or NARCISSUS IN THE DARK
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© 2004
Robert Patrick

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There are chapters on:

FOREWORD
(Narcissus in the Dark)

BROKEN BLOSSOMS
In the midst of life, a masterpiece.

FANTASIA
A free variation on a theme.

ALL ABOUT EVE
Subversive sophistication.

GENTLEMEN PREFER BLONDES
Why sex revolted.

THE TEN COMMANDMENTS
The identity of faith and camp.

VERTIGO & MARNIE
Greatness examined.

GIGI
Grace defended.

THE SWEET SMELL OF SUCCESS
Noir in art and life.

JUDGMENT AT NUREMBERG
Inglorious black and white.

LA DOLCE VITA & 8 1/2
American versus European existentialism.

PORN
The lust picture show.

NASHVILLE
The identity of comedy and tragedy.

ALL THAT JAZZ
…imitates life imitates art imitates life…

ALIENS & PRICK UP YOUR EARS
Meeting monsters.

BE WARNED: THIS BOOK IS HIGHLY “ADULT” IN CONTENT.

HERE IS THE FORWORD OF THE BOOK.

“If you tell the truth you don’t have to remember anything.”
– MARK TWAIN’S NOTEBOOK, ed. Albert Bigelow Paine, Harper &
Brothers, 1935, p. 240.

for Joe Cino
(d. 1967)
“One rational voice is dumb. Over his grave
the household of Impulse mourns one dearly loved: sad is Eros, builder of cities, and weeping anarchic Aphrodite.”
(W.H. Auden, In Memory of Sigmund Freud)

FOREWORD
(Narcissus in the Dark)
*x*
I never liked life much. I preferred art
Life was confusing, but art was clear to a Depression child whose first recollection is unexplained flares of flame from Texas oil refineries, half-glimpsed as he half-dozed in a dark back-seat and half-heard Mama and Daddy sing country songs (although they only ever stopped in towns) about idle bums (although they grimly looked for work).
Life was transient, but art permanent, for in every blurry burg I encountered the same magazines, juke-boxes, radios, and especially films; I saw a spiked ceiling descend on NYOKA, THE JUNGLE GIRL at the end of the same serial chapter in five successive towns.
Life was crummy, art colorful, compared to the black highways, the tacky khaki baize of the back-seat, and the tan dirt floors of the tents and huts we stayed in, in towns where gray farmers on the porches of brown stores sucked pale yellow Popsicles.
*x*
And life was stupid, art intelligent, in a milieu which wouldn’t or couldn’t answer the questions of a high I.Q. child, but which defined its ignorance as “not being stuck-up,” or “not thinking it was better than anybody else.” No work of art ever flung me across a “motor hotel” room, bawling and bleeding.
And art was familiar, life a stream of strangers. We moved first from hunger, then from hope, then from hopelessness, then from habit. Such scattered family as we saw, we met by chance when their migrations crossed ours. When we did meet them, I disliked them. They were scarred and scared. They had been separated by distance and ignorance from anything eastern or European, by superstition from anything intellectual, and by dire poverty from almost everything human. The beauty, tradition, and compassion of art separated me from them.
*x*
I was always alone. Mama was working. Daddy was away working, or something to hide from when home. My sisters were crucially older than I, and extraordinarily pretty. Wartime dating took them away early. Although I, they, and Mama had denial of Daddy’s beatings in common, shared denial does not constitute a bond. We had no friends. We never lived anywhere long enough to get socialized, to learn the grunts, clicks, and squeaks which mark a primate as belonging to a pack. Daddy’s attacks came without warning or pattern, so we never acquired, as some abuse victims do, the arts of charm and negotiation which might have jump-started us on social skills. Transient neighbors who made overtures, Mama rejected as “too countrified,” just as any who were slightly more upscale rejected her. At school, my teachers were more ignorant than I. Church was stultifying, even the hymns soporific. Sports were horrible, too much like Daddy’s violence. My precocious sexual predations led to no liaisons; Baptist boys went under the porch eagerly, but left shamefaced and didn’t ask one to stay for lunch. There was nothing much for me but art.
The art most available was film. Painting and sculpture were exotica seen in “Life” magazine, not in life. Serious music was something heard in bursts in Joe Pasternak productions, but quickly dialed past on the radio by an adult hand as “just noise” or “too depressing.” Dance, forbidden in public in much of the Bible Belt, was mostly something movie stars did. A stage-theatre was merely a movie-set where Judy Garland triumphed in the last reel. Books beyond Mama’s high-school textbooks and the paperback mysteries hoarded by a visited aunt weren’t a factor till we stopped for a time when I was six in Grand Prairie, Texas, where there was a thing called a “public library,” and Plato’s puppet Socrates first spoke to me.
*x*
Books quickly became much more to me than blood, but books came at me unchronologically, and remained with me through shifting scenes. Films were tightly tied to particular times and places. Few were then re-released, and there was no television. If you liked a movie, or loved it, you skipped school and skimped on schoolwork to catch all eight or twelve performances of it. If your town was large enough to have a “second-run” theatre, you saw it again there, usually on a double bill. If you were old enough to drive, you followed it from town to town across the scruffy High Plains wastes. In fact, you might have driven hundreds of miles to see it on its initial release in a big city, Amarillo or Lubbock, weeks or months before it trickled into your town. But after that flurry of screenings, it was gone, forever, like a certain season’s flowers. So films are the clearest line of landmarks for back-tracking my lost life.
*x*
The first film which I recall attending is HONKY-TONK (1941), somewhere in Louisiana when I was three. I vividly remember Clark Gable kissing phosphorescent Lana Turner on a stretched sheet for an audience of migrant workers on plank benches. It wasn’t my first film. I later recognized the two images below in re-releases of 1937’s SNOW WHITE AND THE SEVEN DWARFS and 1939’s GONE WITH THE WIND, which Mama said wasn’t possible; she had carried me to those films as a babe.

*x*
After HONKY-TONK, I saw any film I could. Every town had at least one “movie-house” (one town had seven). Many showed double features. Each played two or three bills a week. Before TV made obsessive movie-watching the national pastime, I was thought weird for seeing thousands of films.
However, obsessed though I was with movies, I believed in them less than did the people around me who were supposedly involved with “real life.” They seemed to think movies were newsreels of real life, somewhere over some rainbow. Perhaps because of my reading, I knew better. Films at the end of the Golden Age took place in a separate dimension of grace, good humor, romance, and noble self-denial, practiced by a breed of smooth, beautiful, non-mammals. Neither stars not stories reflected the details of daily hunger and elimination, morning quarrels with my sisters over toys, afternoon sex-play with compliant contemporaries, nightly narcosis before the radio, and random beatings from Daddy which constituted real life. No film showed a bright child kept home from school, his face bruised and bandaged, reading a book “too old for him” with his one good eye.
And I was, of course, homosexual. The screen didn’t reflect me “at all, at all” (as Mama would say), just as mirrors didn’t reflect Dracula. To avoid mistaking myself for a monster, I had to reflect back on the screen to de-code what was hardly hinted at by Laurel and Hardy, Randolph Scott and John Wayne, or Hope and Crosby “buddy pictures,” not to mention what was never mentioned in THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY.
*x*
Film’s only link to real life was the real effects it had on me. I tracked them rigorously. Narcissus in the dark, I took pencil and paper to movies to analyze exactly what specific compositions, camera-moves, and cuts did to me. I also analyzed how paintings, especially modern paintings, affected me. (This book might well have been titled “Great Moments in Movies and Great Movements at MOMA.”) I memorized sexual successes to repeat with my next surrogate self, and tried to preserve with my Crayolas shimmering Southwestern scenery (which held me so spellbound that I was tacitly considered simple-minded). But films, unlike sex and scenery, were experiences one could repeat exactly, and–by repeating and analyzing–come to understand precisely. I understood, and remembered, my movies much better than my life.
My sisters made horrible mistakes from expecting real males to be as chivalrous as movie-men. My mother seemed to believe that waitress-work was as noble as in Joan Crawford movies. They all held their chins high and tried to maintain the impossible valor and cheerfulness of Greer Garson and Claudette Colbert— resulting in bitterness, breakdowns, and addictions. Even the men back at home from the real war looked disappointed, as if they blamed themselves for not matching the graceful bravery of film stars in attractively-mussed uniforms. It was as if, by sinking into the solace of the screen, I had gained a detached, Olympian overview of the supposedly realistic people around me.
*x*
Everyone saw movies. Films were enormously popular in my nonage. Why wouldn’t they be? Movies, moving pictures, windows on space, tunnels in time, dreams where dreams come true and the dead rise, animated stained-glass windows where gods, heroes, saints, satyrs, nymphs, and devils live, where they live for us, and where they live forever–dreams distributed so widely that we can read the minds of much of mankind because they largely consist of those shared images. Fascinating? Please!
*x*
We’re told that babies literally grow bigger brains from being talked to, even before they can understand a word. Why hasn’t the illusory experiential enrichment of a century of film left humanity brighter?
And, having film’s colossal, kaleidoscopic, cross-cultural, conceptual cram-course in common with billions (Gore Vidal’s Myra Breckenridge reminds us that half the people who ever lived are alive right now), why have I forever felt alone?
Those questions–Why aren’t people brighter and why am I alone?–didn’t automatically yield answers just from prolonged intellectual examination, as aesthetic questions did. By pursuing them, I became for the first time involved in life.
Six aborted inquiries indicate what my environment thought of inquiry. At four, when my father sponge-bathed naked before me (the first person I’d seen nude), I asked if it was all right for men to see each other naked. He replied, “Yes, but you shouldn’t want to.” At six, when newspapers reported a wartime federal request that women save fabric by wearing short skirts, I asked my mother why men weren’t asked to wear short pants. She told me that was a nasty question. At eight, when old magazines deplored Hitler’s rape of Poland, but schoolteachers revered the American rape of Texas (not till junior high school did we get other than Texan history), I asked why Hitler’s incursion was evil and ours good, and was nervously shushed and told I mustn’t think such things. At ten, when I asked my father what some water mains and meters were, he beat me with his crutch, snarling, “Shit, didn’t none of yer Mama’s boyfriends while I was at war teach you nothin’?” At twelve, when I asked a civics teacher what this “Communism” was that we were told to hate and fear, he replied that Communists didn’t believe in God, and that that was all we needed to know. At fourteen, when I asked one of my few intelligent teachers why he never mentioned Marilyn Monroe, whom I saw as the most promising artist of our time, he told me she was a “cultural lag.” By sixteen, as you may imagine, I had stopped expecting answers from anyone around me.
But I was bright enough to know that people were not really so stupid as they seemed, or they could not operate an increasingly complex technological civilization. On closer examination, their apparent stupidity turned out to be in the airier areas called philosophy, psychology, and sociology, and caused by an alloy of Depression disorientation and prairie protestant puritanism which limited their perceptions like blinkers on a plow-horse. Our random moving and my random reading had made me an unreachable moving target for such prides and prejudices, but had infused me with quite another alloy, of personal observation and European sophistication. That was one reason I was alone.
*x*
Another reason was that everybody was. I first knowingly experienced existential isolation in 1946 at a showing of an Olivia De Havilland soaper, TO EACH HIS OWN. During World War I, innocent Olivia’s fiancée John Lund flies her to their marriage in a biplane. It crashes. They’re miles from nowhere. He has barely time to reach his troop train. They mate hurriedly, unwed. Then he’s heroically dead, she disgracefully pregnant, as a prelude to a lifetime of expiation. I laughed aloud at the hilarious elaborateness of the plot’s “card-stacking” to justify Olivia’s giving John what every girl I knew gave copiously to soldiers during our own late war–and not only when they were late for troop-trains. Fellow audience members shushed me. For the first time I looked at them rather than at the screen or myself. They were buying the movie. But they wore many expressions. Some wept for Olivia’s suffering, some deplored it, some were turned-on by it. Everyone was alone, I saw. Each one was seeing a different movie. But they were more like each other than they were different, and more like each other than they were like me. They didn’t know that they were alone. I did. The more I realized I was alone, the more alone I was.
My loneliness sought friends as my body sought lovers.
I began to notice the names which appeared on the screen before a film, not only those of actors, but of people called producers, writers, directors, designers, choreographers. These people became my friends and family. (One projected title for this book was “Imaginary Playmates.”) Surely they didn’t believe in movies, either. They couldn’t possibly. After all, they made them up. My movie-going began to be an imagined conversation between me and these people about the movies, and even about life. But it was, of course, one-way. A few fan letters brought back, if anything, cheap postcards with autographs printed on them. The pictures in the fan magazines were prettier. My solitude intensified.
A pivotal point in that solitude came immediately after we heard via radio the first announcement of the atomic bomb. After most war news, I and the other Indian Hills children would assemble to “play war.” This time, I dashed out to find myself alone on Chickasaw Trace. It was decades before I understood that the other mothers were inside, clutching their children to them. Mama alone had no illusion that she could protect us. Now Daddy would be coming home to stay. I accepted my solitude as a fact, without despair. I didn’t know anybody had it any better.
Annoyingly unartistic newsreels taught me that millions had it infinitely worse. Crucial shocks for numbing my potential self-pity were shots of emaciated Jewish nudes being plowed into the ground, Japanese children’s burned flesh literally falling off of them after the Atom Bomb, and concentration-camp stick-figures too terrified to step through prison gates even after liberation. (Aren’t we all?) Movies, which looked good enough compared to my own life, looked even better after the news.
*x*
Some movies looked better than others. I became critical because it increased my pleasure in three ways. First, at a time when five or six new movies might open in a week, I learned where to go for the most potentially pleasing product. Second, I felt closer to my cinematic correspondents as I understood how they made their magic, or failed to. “Oh, Howard,” I’d subvocalize to Mister Hawks, “How you love those boyish girls.” Third, I found pleasure at even the paltriest film by twiddling with it mentally to imagine how much better it could be, and precisely how it could be bettered. I was becoming a writer. At a bad film, I was like a medical student “getting a break” by witnessing a long, drawn-out death. Artists as varied as Mary Renault, Pablo Picasso, and Peter DeVries have described the snide critical reaction embryonic artists experience seeing bad works of art. “I heard another voice,” Mary’s adolescent actor says of someone else’s performance, “Not yet knowing whose.”
Along with my own coalescing croak, I heard others. Under the best films, one heard a single clear voice explaining art and, incidentally, life. Under the worst films, whose stories and characters were wildly inconsistent, one heard disputing voices of reason and unreason, religiosity, sex, and sentiment. Among the first characters I created were imagined studio moguls and minions around a conference table arguing about which way a picture should go. This eternal “production conference” became an institution in my mind. Many times, it was more enjoyable than the film the participants were discussing.
Of course I attended uncritically any film featuring this star or that, to gape at their gorgeousness. My first favorites were a plump cowboy, Johnny Mack Brown, and the equally pneumatic Betty Grable. But around their pinchable pulchritude, the films themselves seemed to be trying to say something. Some films were rubber-stamped: the west got won, the show got on. Others (often war or gangster films with attractive anti-heroes who unsatisfyingly suffered or unbelievably reformed) were confused, incomplete, self-contradictory. These prompted busy “production conferences” in my head, scenarios in which New York and Hollywood sharpies (played by Lou Costello and Groucho Marx) tried to guess what Bible-Belters (played by Charles Winninger and Judy Canova) would buy. Yet other films were enchanting, even if empty; in the most mechanical studio “product,” there could be a Warner Brothers pace, a Twentieth Century Fox look –supremely, at its best, a Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer opulence. A few were permeated with personality. From telling details, one felt the closeness of the fantasized friend, be it writer, director, or producer. I began to prefer a Walt Disney, Alfred Hitchcock, Cecil B. DeMille, John Ford, David O. Selznick, Samuel Goldwyn, or Preston Sturges film to others.
*x*
One also favored (and forgave flaws in) films starring such eerily communicative players as Fred Astaire or Maria Montez. The very best films combined story, production, performance, and montage into a long, sinuous shape in aesthetic time-space, a free-floating arabesque moving forward via half-sensed subterranean muscles like a boyfriend striving for pleasure against me, achieving an almost musical fulfillment I called “form.” Most films had silly stories, yet some flair (which I didn’t yet know to call “style”) might make gripping a routine genre movie directed by, oh, Otto Preminger or Fritz Lang. Andrew Sarris in 1962 defined this quality of many Studio Era “classics” as “interior meaning,” to be “extrapolated from the tension between a director’s personality and his material.” In other words, interesting artists pumped their personalities into lousy scripts or limited genres. A Cukor-Gordon-Kanin-Tracy-Hepburn film might be meant as broad farce, yet some gallantry gave it underlying dignity and grace. There were coded, as well as overt, messages from my fellow intelligent exiles. Their flair was like flares from Hollywood over the horizon. I began to formulate answering signals.
My schoolmates “played movies.” I played life; I was really always at the movies. The people around me talked about the story of a movie like something that had really happened. I sat among them, revolving its extracted structure in my mind. I saw that many very different film stories had the same structure, only seen from different angles. I deduced that the angle was chosen because of someone’s attitude toward life–literally, his viewpoint. I learned to assume different viewpoints to see how situations in my life looked from each one. I learned to enjoy and distrust all viewpoints. Detachment became my viewpoint. I became the man without a country, that is, without a culture. From my indiscriminate orbit, I began to look for detail and design in my life, storing them to share someday with my imaginary playmates. My isolation became an artist’s.
Film kept its hold on me when I went into the working world. While dishwashing, caddying, or delivering, I aped the good manners of film characters (Ingrid Bergman in CASABLANCA responding to a compliment with, “You’re very kind,” Louis Jourdan in GIGI with “I wouldn’t know how to do it any other way”). I must have been bewildering to people, as hermetically protected from relationships as shallow Shelley Duvall in THREE WOMEN (a character aptly from Texas). This got me sanitarily through aborted post high-school careers in college, the Air Force, a state asylum, and office work. Good grace armored me from the rough-edged cohorts I abhorred. What had I to do with their self-absorption? I had no self. I never saw the place where I was born, my father once left me for dead, and there was no one like me in the movies. When accumulated data from many co-workers’ sob-stories made me realize that many individuals, and not merely newsreel millions, had much worse lives than I, and much poorer resources for dealing with them, I began to feel lucky, and to come to life.
*x*
The life to which I came was live theatre, Joe Cino’s Caffe Cino in Greenwich Village, where movie-maundering constituted a common culture for me and my generation of just-barely-educated, cinema-sodden, sex-crazed, sleep-walking, stage-starved American playwrights. In that very first of New York’s “Off-Off Broadway” or “underground” theatres, I first found ears for my stored observations–friends who shared my I.Q., aestheticism, aversions, inversion, and self-education. The first generation to have its mind expanded by paperbacks and media, history and news, we couldn’t be comfortable in the fantasy which we perceived all prior culture to be. Our overstuffed, art-refined minds expelled their experiences and attitudes in astonishingly original dramas done on the floor of Joe’s caffe. His tiny dive on Cornelia Street was our Shangri-La, our Tara, our Oz, our Broadway, our own Early Hollywood. It was as if Joe had a sign in his window, “Boy Wanted,” and each of us ran in and screeched to a cartoon-character halt before him, holding the sign and grinning, “Just give me a chance.” At last we had real lives of work, wooing, and world-challenging, and, with Joe as our Geppetto, became, at last, like Pinocchio, real boys.
Or so I thought then. I think now that our romantic revolution both rose and fell because we began it from beliefs based not on the real world we had been lied-to about, but on the fantasies of films which, although we didn’t buy any single one of them, yet cumulatively sold us awesome but unworkable ideals.
*x*
So we post-war small-town WASP movie-moppets, hitting the big cities, were shocked to see how beaten-down were the blacks. We took to the streets in the sixties not as rebels, but as conservative champions of tenets the movies had taught us–to make life more like the movies–and were radicalized only when our parents sent cops to beat us down, and out, and back into the dark. After enough beatings, we lowered our demands to merely more lifelike movies. These came mostly from abroad. It was much harder being intelligent and aesthetic in America than being homosexual. In fact, any man showing any one of those qualities was accused of the other two. When I and fellow playwright Lanford Wilson first visited Brooklyn, to gather atmosphere for a film he had been asked to consider writing, we were pursued through sunrise streets by a car full of working-class toughs, who screamed, “We’ll bend you over a fender and fuck your queer asses!” We weren’t supposed to think, we weren’t supposed to feel, and we weren’t supposed to love another man. How were we, then, supposed to live together? There were very good reasons why someone should hang a sheet in a glade to distract migrant workers with HONKY TONK. I remembered that 1941 Louisiana glade in 1970, on New York’s Lower East Side, when, after a three-day street battle between police and the poor (which never made the media), I came down my block to see disenfranchised children sitting on bloody asphalt enjoying a city-supplied truck-back screening of (accidental irony) BORN FREE. Those children, I saw, were my children.
*x*
I found parents, too. Joe Cino fed and housed my heart and gave it a play-pen theatre to grow strong in. The great painter, Paul Cadmus, in professional exile for being intelligent, independent, and gay since the time I crouched in the dust devouring his paintings in an overseer’s cast-off Life Magazine, sought me out in the lobby at a play of mine. He had known my plays for years. A fan-letter to the noble English novelist Mary Renault brought one in return. We dined at her home in South Africa, where white Lesbians could live untormented. We quoted one another’s works back and forth. We had more than exile in common. So was it with gay rights pioneer Quentin Crisp, whom I met by trying to rescue him on a Manhattan street from cops (who turned out merely to be asking for his autograph). So was it with other honored elders who are still afraid they cannot afford to be named in this context. I had a lineage, before and after me. I extended my lifeline by visiting schools as a playwright, to become such an elder as I had longed to find, accessible to children such as I had been.
*x*
Alas, before I could reach them, meaner movies, in the form of omnipresent television, had given them meaner dreams, and few of them could see, through attention spans crippled by commercial interruptions, the lifeline I extended. To those few I cling, and write this book.
I and my generation having had, and hilariously bungled, our opportunity to affect the future, I find myself, like an old man at the start of an old movie, poking the past to learn what happened off-screen during a life lived in a celluloid cocoon. I use favorite films as rungs to pull myself back against the contradictory current. I see myself peeling off old-age make-up to be revealed as a handsome juvenile in these flashbacks, after some poor, exploited, cute kid has played me as a child.
*x*
En route to my roots, I say a great deal about a great many films. I am obliged to state my criteria to you, for (as I often tell a producer who asks me to ghost-make televistic bricks without sufficient informational straw), “Everyone has the right to know his situation.” I have more regard for you readers than TV has for writers, so here’s your situation.
Underlying the ten numbered critical tenets below is this chain of assumptions:
Experience teaches that human beings cannot do anything we have not first imagined doing, but also that there is nothing we can imagine which we cannot do. Imagination affects life. Art affects our imaginations. Therefore art affects life. Movies are the most effective art form ever created, the most vivid means of communicating or stimulating imagination. We are currently seeing evil movies and doing evil things. Those bad movies are reflecting only each other and are therefore getting worse and worse. Bad art is making worse people. Criticism affects art. Criticism based on the same standards as the films will change nothing. We need criticism from quite another viewpoint. We’re not going to get better or even different films from people who cannot imagine any reason to make movies except to get someone’s nickel.
Virtually no movies are made to get my nickel. I’m a queer, arty, unmaterialistic, alienated, intellectual atheist individual in a straight, desensitized, money-mad, conformist, dead-head, superstitious state. Sitting among you, I have had cause to observe not only the movie before us all, but also you who sat around me reacting differently than I, and, also, of course, myself, myself, myself. I have understood the form of films of which you perceived only the surface. I have had to have you explain the surfaces of films which depended on your cabalistic knowledge for their comprehension. I have seen in some films things which you completely missed, and I have had to ask you what you saw that I didn’t in others. Often what you thought you saw simply wasn’t on the film at all, but only in your mass mind. I have had cause to come to know a great deal about film, and about you, and your mind, and about myself, none of which it has ever been necessary for you to know. Just as the stories of horrendous misfits Like Frankenstein’s monster, Rhett and Scarlett, or Bonnie and Clyde best reveal their societies’ basic structures, I believe my story best tells yours. You need me. That’s the tectonic plate on which this book is built. Catch my drift. Thou shalt have no other guides before me.
Of course, underneath all of the assumptions and deductions above is one which is surprising coming from someone who introduced himself by saying he prefers art to life: that life itself, its quality and continuation, are important. You caught me. As its enemies proliferate, I’ve come to have some regard for slimy, smelly, surprising, persistent life–even if only because the dead do not make movies, good or bad.
Tenets, anyone?
*x*
First: I like what I like. I don’t waste a lot of space-time pretending to like what I ought, or not to like what I oughtn’t. I don’t feel that I endorse genocide or capital punishment by deploring SOPHIE’S CHOICE and DEAD MAN WALKING as sanctimonious bores. I respect Ingmar Bergman’s compassion as much as any old man in the house, but I’d rather not sit through it again, thanks. Life is short, and, as Mister Bergman enjoys reminding us, it gets shorter all the time. At a bad time in my own life, I was evicted from a theatre in Boston for belting out, after the suicide, screams, and blood-red fadeouts in CRIES AND WHISPERS, “THAAAAAAT’S en-ter-TAIN-ment!”
*x*
Second: Films don’t just happen, and they aren’t newsreels. Someone chooses what goes into every fucking frame. I take a film as a message from its maker, who may be a writer, a director, a producer, a star, a composer, an editor, or a combo of any or all of the above, epitomized by Chaplin. Once there were many clear voices–a Mankiewicz, a Minnelli, a Selznick, a Tracy, a Herrmann, a Fellini with whom one could argue or agree. Always there were behind such voices vaster voices from the cultural past which illuminated both life and art. There were also echoes of nasty little voices at production conferences, trying to pass as vast. As time went on, the echoes from the past vanished, and the production conferences began to drown out the individual voices. There was a certain charm for a while in reconstructing the production conferences, for there was little enough else to do at most movies. Today even those voices have vanished. Sad, stunned films such as THE SIXTH SENSE and THE MATRIX seem cries of animal pain from vast mooing mobs with no guides at all, mere sociological symptoms, their doers and viewers alike feral refugees from romanticism’s ruins. Much of this book consists of responses to all of the above voices.
*x*
Third: I have an aesthetic bias, formed by Hollywood competence. THE RETURN OF THE SECAUCUS 7 is a deeper, truer film about my generation’s despair than THE BIG CHILL, but THE BIG CHILL is a way better movie, and I’ve seen it much more often than its estimable precursor.
However, that bias isn’t binding. Till a truer movie about the form of war is made than MEN WITH GUNS, I’ll forgive it its aesthetic awkwardness. And while stuck on Sayles, know that although EIGHT MEN OUT is a finer film than MATEWAN, MATEWAN means more to me. Perhaps I lack the sports gene, or possess in excess the humane one. I don’t faff around to fabricate a consistent aesthetique from my foibles. I’ll sit through the leaden script of WORDS AND MUSIC to see June Allyson float down those castle stairs—my favorite screen image ever–but I’d never argue that it’s a good movie. I begged friends to see ONCE WERE WARRIORS for its dead-on depiction of familial violence, but I warned them that its ending is a letdown of uplift. I love CONTEMPT, but can’t defend its meat-cleaver editing to anyone whom it jars. I suppose this paragraph can be distilled as either, “I’m whimsical” or “I’m honest.” I’m too narcissistic to niggle. I’m more interested in seeing myself clearly in the mosaic of my major movie moments than I am in collaging a noncontradictory image. Over Dracula’s empty mirror I will gladly accept Dorian Gray’s most putrescent portrait.
*x*
Fourth: I tend to know, and say, precisely what I like or don’t like. My memos to myself about movies, scribbled in the dark, taught me all about why my tendons stiffen or my muscles melt. Narcissus knows every node and nexus of his own nerves, and frequently centers on his most private ones. I was a randy little chap (randy little bastard, according to Daddy), and I saw a lot of cinema one-eyed (nudge-nudge, wink-wink). And I do go on about it. Those who see movies to escape mammalian distractions had best read elsewhere.
*x*
Fifth: I hate some movies even though I like them. Though a freak for form, I will dis content. About elegant execrations like RESERVOIR DOGS and BLUE VELVET, I cannot say (as a drama-teacher friend said to me about being restricted to producing “You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown” every year) “If a thing isn’t worth doing, it’s worth doing superbly.” Messrs. Tarantino and Lynch “make great movie,” and I profoundly wish that they had both died before making any. The DIE HARDs and LETHAL WEAPONs are often exquisitely made, and their makers should be ashamed of themselves for making them. In our current state of cultural depravity, perhaps the most startling sentiment in my book is this: I’d rather see pretty people singing and dancing than awful people doing awful things to each other.
*x*
Sixth: I’m no idealist. Sure, I bawl and beam as I’m directed to when watching IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE, but I know Lo-Cal Jell-O when I’m fed it, and life, even when wonderful, ain’t wonderful like that. Jimmy Stewart is a pseudoaggressive masochist; Lionel Barrymore had the hots for him when he was a kid; Gloria Grahame’s trollop puts out for Ward Bond’s cop, and Thomas Mitchell’s old sot used the “lost” bank deposit to get barman Sheldon Leonard to lift his apron for a blow-job. That’s okay, because those are the forces that keep the world working. But people aren’t made out of marzipan. Wife Donna Reed makes herself sick imagining that if Jimmy’s home out-of-work, he’ll molest the kids. And indeed “No man is a failure who has friends”—provided the friends are successful, and generous. Otherwise, God bless the child who’s got his own, and they ain’t no God (according to Paddy Chayefsky) at all, at all. Potterville is real-er than Bedford Falls. Sorry. Form-freak though I may be, touching life at last made me long for the complexity and irregularity of it in art, as in , e.g., HOLIDAY, DARLING, THE WICKER MAN, THE BONFIRE OF THE VANITIES, FUNNY BONES, IN THE COMPANY OF MEN. Hallelujah, THE STUNT MAN!
*x*
Seventh: Trusting ticket-sales tabulations to tell me which films were most popular, and when (despite knowing that they’re sometimes inflated to plump egos or deflated to facilitate a truly amazing range of financial frauds), I assume that a film’s relative popularity says something about the populace–or a film’s targeted fragment of it–at that particular time, e.g., I trust that the hard-working heroines of GONE WITH THE WIND and SNOW WHITE AND THE SEVEN DWARFS reflected romantically women’s struggles in the Depression, and that THE EXORCIST was such a smash because it articulated 1973 parents’ real fear of their feral children, as well as their unreined children’s fear of themselves. TITANIC did the same for a 1997 America which felt itself foundering badly. I can’t attribute its popularity to hype. Humongous hype didn’t sell STARSHIP TROOPERS, GODZILLA, and CONTACT. TITANIC was simply more in tune with its time’s anxiety. I see you at the movies.
I recognize the chicken-or-egg problem–whether we form film or film forms us (U.S.)—a conundrum exacerbated since the perpetual presence of film via TV in every living-room. In my opinion, once Clara Bow bobbed her hair, and my Mama in Texas followed suit, and megastar Mary Pickford bobbed hers to win Mama back, well, the point became moot.

“Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world” (Shelley), but, “We need the landscape to repeat us” (Snodgrass). Cinematic dreams succeed because we’re already dreaming them. The influential ping-pong between audience and industry has been unbroken from since before I was born, except for a glitch in the seventies when stodgy Hollywood attempted to make “swinging” youth-flicks, and the fan-belt slipped off the motor, destroying many careers.

I do check my deductions about why a film is popular against what I see of the life around me.
I comprehend the balancing factor of escapism. Some hits reflect the rabble; others massage it. I and my womenfolk were reduced to cornered rats by a big, drunk man swinging a crutch at us; we preferred lighthearted musical romances. A lot of people did. Dore Schary at M.G.M. actually had to falsify studio accounts to justify ending the musical era to produce “meaningful” movies (which weren’t). If you believe art merely reflects life, you would think from box-office receipts that thirties/forties/fifties America was one long production number.
But it’s easier at century’s turn to triangulate the national mood from box-office data, because the films made for both commerce and art today offer the identical cynical premise: “Everything is awful, and there’s no point in trying,” and it’s a big laugh both when the loony beheads the bad daddy in SWING BLADE and when our own cities explode in INDEPENDENCE DAY.

Recently, our bored boychicks supported a lengthy period of simple masochism in which action-adventure heroes had to be tenderized like steaks before they could win; when there was no other immediate source of suffering, Clint Eastwood would wrench his own dislocated shoulder back into place, or Bruce Willis walk barefoot across broken glass to exacerbate adolescent self-
distaste. As youth feels ever more useless, its need to see capable heroes suffer has escalated into the desire to see them die. Lately, heroes began dying like anti-heroes at the ends of hits as various as TITANIC, ARMAGEDDON, LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL, THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT, and THE SIXTH SENSE–as if we were again at war and needed the reassurance that John Wayne will give his all to save us from–what? We’re back to primordial insecurity requiring sacrificial saviors like Beowulf, Achilles, Roland, and El Cid. Studying the films of the last two decades is like going through a psychotic’s garbage for clues to a cultural suicide. But there’s an underlay of ghoulish humor to such self-sacrifice, or, precisely, sacrifice of self. A TV-writer friend just closed a sci-fi series by killing his hero, and giggled triumphantly as he showed me the death-scene. His justification was that the hero’s murder would call official attention to the conspiracy he was investigating, and “someone” would pursue it. Thus it was a happy ending. Muldar and Scully of “The X-Files” (and their clones on its clones) keep failing and almost dying. That’s because that’s what their fans want to see them do. Believe me, the makers of these shows rush to their computers at commercial breaks to check viewer reactions on fan websites. The feedback is megabytes faster than when studio heads analyzed “audience response cards” at sneak previews and did retakes in response. The polls are on a roll. The little screen bytes back, and it wants no heroes. As I write this, the teenaged Rambos at Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado have just killed themselves after slaughtering a couple of dozen kids they perceived as their social superiors.

I deduce from the above and other data, and from the sneering cynicism of my young acquaintances, that disbelief and desperation are working their way to the surface, dragging up with them angry, asocial egos offended by the very idea of an elite. Heroes are an affront to a generation told since birth that it’s overpopulation. They claw to confess their individualizing aberrations on talk-shows. This is the very class which thirty years ago gloried in its normalcy. Now it’s anonymized by the advertising it’s addicted to, and paradoxically commits copy-cat crimes to feel as individual as the offense’s originator. Regularly, the rock-and-roll-loving, intellectual-hating, suicidal apes who serve as the leads in all popular pictures, the TWISTERS and ARMAGEDDONS and TITANICS, surface in 3-D in Waco, Oklahoma City, and Littleton, and then die again more gloriously in 2-D in Movies Of The Week to literally ear-splitting SurroundSound, while independents win adult acclaim by disvaluing the only other options by depicting suburban Hells in THE ICE STORM, YOUR FRIENDS AND NEIGHBORS, HAPPINESS, and AMERICAN BEAUTY. Americans, like the Kingston Trio in my youth, “don’t like anybody very much,” and they need the cinematic landscape to repeat them. If you believe there’s no explaining popularity, you will be annoyed by this book.
*x*
Eighth: I think I coin one phrase herein, “jumble-genre,” or “genre-jumble,” to describe recent films made by people who know only film, not life, and who have carbon-copied, confused, and conflated past genres so that crime, monster, horror, sci-fi, western, and action-adventure films all are indistinguishable fast farces, with assaults and explosions treated like musical “production numbers,” to give lift where there is no life. Roughly, the first films were simple records of reality–streets and sneezes; then Griffith and Chaplin (e.g.) consciously imposed a view of life; as technical means improved, Hitchcock and Houston were enabled to reveal their personalities, perhaps not entirely consciously; perhaps self-protectively, Welles and Minnelli made style their subject; Coppola’s subject was his search for a style; Scorcese’s his search for Coppola’s style; Spielberg’s, Cameron’s, Tarantino’s, Burton’s, et cetera ad infinitum only their foundering in past film. And their heirs have seen only their films about films, and make films about films about films, Most of the “independent” films blatted as art are just coarser clones of commercial “classics.” PSYCHO would have been shocked to have fostered SLING BLADE, not to mention its own boneless clone. The climax of this decadent phase seems to be the new filmmakers who have seen only TV, like whoever committed TWISTER. “Genre” buffs, beware my book.
*x*
Ninth: virtually every piece herein reflects how appalled I am by what has become of this country, this culture, in my lifetime. Essentially, that has been a passage from pride (not always deserved) to paranoia (mostly well-earned)–one might say, “from hope to horror.” Movies have reflected that passage vividly and minutely, and not only in their surging sado-masochism. “American Life in An Age of Diminishing Expectations” is the subtitle of Christopher Lasch’s The Culture of Narcissism, the only book which seems to me to describe the desiccated intellectual ecology in which I find myself stranded. (It refers to a new, negative Narcissism, obsessive self-hatred, not to my healthy old-fashioned kind.) Expectations in life and art have diminished to the point where terror and tedium are the expectations–indeed, the requirements–of “trash” and “art” films alike. It is as if films both industrial and independent are being made by aliens, or at best by adherents of some elaborate unadmitted faith. If the makers of SPECIES do not know how antisocial they are, or the makers of SOMETHING TO TALK ABOUT how boring it is, then they are alien to all past aspirations of humanity. If they do know, and yet feel compelled to make such films, they are merely alienated. Today’s feral filmmakers are the intellectual equivalents of other industrialists who poison and destroy the environment, muttering, “If I don’t, someone else will make the profit,” “No one can prove I’m doing irreparable damage,” and “I have to do it; it’s what the people want,” all the while whispering prayers that someone else will save them from the pollution and imbalance they create and have to live in (as Buckminster Fuller in Operating Manual for Spaceship Earth warns us that all our masters are doing ).
Prominent among their alien-or-alienated qualities is the complete devaluation of surprise as a desirable quality in entertainment. “Previews” or “trailers” are contrived to lure audiences to coming attractions. They once were brief, tantalizing mélanges of scenes, artfully shuffled so as not to reveal plot surprises. They are now detailed synopses, revealing everything. The preview for the latest version of THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK actually tells who the title character is, one of the great plot-shocks in all western fiction, the sort of thing which ads used to beg audiences not to reveal. What Iron Age anxiety that unmasks! Producers, who ponder polls, seem to assume that their audience is terrified that any new experience will be bad. Oh, what that says about America’s experiences and expectations. Patriots will not appreciate my premises.
The change in America’s self-image is inevitably reflected in films, and to a remarkable degree in the players in those films, whose very bodies seem to have adjusted to express it. Look at Janet Leigh’s perpendicular poise in the original PSYCHO, and Ann Heche’s careless slouch in the same role in the re-make.
*x*
Tenth: I don’t partake of the second-hand smoke and mirrors of propaganda and publicity. Beneath their modish muckiness, politically-correct products like the ostensibly anti-macho UNFORGIVEN and pro-feminist THE PIANO look, if you don’t read your program or your press-packet, just like what Andrew Sarris calls male and female “weepies,” and I treat them as such.
*x*
It’s not true, as Pauline Kael mourns, that they don’t make movies like they used to. They make movies exactly like they used to, or they try to, because the most successful and praised filmmakers today know nothing of life but old movies. We are treated regularly, for instance, to racketing, racking “romantic comedies” (crude tomb-rubbings of the masterpieces of Lubitsch and Hawks), made by astonishingly innocent “inner children” ignorant of gallantry, lightness, and grace (the grating MY BEST FRIEND’S WEDDING will serve as an example). Our most effective contemporary comedies (AIRPLANE and its clones) are sophomoric satires of rigid genre rituals. Mainstream American movies are, to put it mildly, in an Hellenic-Corinthian-Victorian period when art relates only to past art.
“Life imitates life in replication.
Art imitates life in idealization.
Life imitates art in aspiration.
Art imitates art to enervation.”
Film-buff filmmakers may be able to tell a story, but the same ones (Cinderella, Hercules, and sulky Achilles being lured back into battle) have been told so many times that they’ve become blurred, like Alexander the Great’s profile, which in The Voices of Silence Andre Malraux tracks on coins across Asia as it mutates into monsters, then abstractions. Desperate attempts to invigorate tired, never-true truisms with mannerist decoration eventually obscure stories which everyone knows as well as Catholics know the Stations of the Cross. That gory image is appropriate, for the fear of freshness leaves souls in a hell of frustration; films reflect this hell in their chaotic editing, their fetishistic content. Cutting-edge effects are employed in sci-fi showcases only to invoke the fetish-gods of animistic Africa, the demon-screens of isolated Asia, the martyrdoms of Dark Age Western Europe. “Techno-Gothic” enthusiasts will be offended by much that follows this foreword.
My ideal reader is probably the young friend who, intrigued as I was by its all-but-religious reviews, took me to see THE PIANO. We sat silent on the drive home. I thought he, a serious lad, might have bought the thing, and I didn’t need a dreary debate after such a drab debacle. But he eventually unknitted his (beautiful) brows and asked me very carefully, “Is it possible that there are two films in release in L.A. called THE PIANO, and we just went to see the wrong one?” However, even this wit deplores my not perceiving a magnificent anti-myth in UNFORGIVEN, so perhaps no one should read this book at all, at all.
*x*
This is not my list of The Best Films Ever Made. I’d love to think I have impeccable taste which makes me like best the best films offered me. Not a chance. These are not, excepting BROKEN BLOSSOMS, VERTIGO, and the LA DOLCE VITA/8 1/2 duology, films I would insist be packed on a spaceship as peak products alongside CITIZEN KANE and CHILDREN OF PARADISE. These are favorite films evoking emotions and incidents which may help me understand myself, and, since I firmly believe that I, like Oscar Wilde, “stand in symbolic relationship to my time,” I see some value in your understanding me, too. Whether either of us likes it or not, you come after me. The two outstanding facts of our time are these: (1) science has made our world one world, and (2) it takes only one generation to lose a culture. The Greco-Roman, Renaissance, Constitutional culture which culminated in the Caffe Cino was fatally wounded at Kent State and is slowly being erased by communications satellites which during every sweeps season try to sweep the walls of the collective consciousness clean, like snails in an aquarium. Hollywood’s goal was that of all prior artists: to offer you a state of energizing exultation so that you would buy its next product. TV’s goal is to keep you in a state of anxious self-hatred so you’ll stay home in shame and watch its ads, except when you sneak out to buy the products they promise will make you invisible. And now you have internet shopping to keep you from having to go out and be seen in all your imperfection. I’m still with you, the last positive Narcissist. I ask you to feel for me that awe with which the polar explorers in THE THING (FROM ANOTHER WORLD) perceive the alien surviving in the ice.
The unexamined life is not worth living. Those who do not read history are doomed to repeat it. It is you of whom I am speaking here. I am the man; I lived it; I was there. And other sage sound-bites. Someday, son, all of this will be yours. Judy Garland at the end of the Munchkin sequence in THE WIZARD OF OZ skips blithely toward what is obviously a painted backdrop. At the end of MARNIE, Sean Connery and “Tippi” Hedren drive toward a similarly obvious canvas wall–and make a propitious right-turn into real depth. I wish herein to give penetrable dimension to the backdrop of our shared history before you crash against it.
I would sometimes turn around in a theatre seat to watch dancing beams of colored light fanning out from a little hole high in the back wall, pseudopods painting that matinee’s pseudo-life. I sit now writing in the dark again, facing fully frontally this time, to examine the experiences illuminated by the screen. I feel the need to review them, with the sense that I will be really viewing them for the first time. For if my life was never a movie, it has certainly always been a film.
*X*

TEMPLE SLAVE chapter 1

 c 1994 by Robert Patrick
all rights reserved

The characters, settings, and events of this book are entirely fictitious, and no resemblance to any extant or extinct person, place, or thing is intended.

Readers may order the complete novel (with annotations) on CD in WORD  for fifteen dollars (USPS MONEY ORDERS ONLY) from

Robert Patrick
1837 N. Alexandria Ave.
#211
L.A. CA 90027
P.S.: Include a verification that you are over 18 years of age and know that the book contains adult material.

Be warned that the novel contains frank language and erotic scenes.

“TEMPLE SLAVE”
by Robert Patrick
for Patrick Angus

CHAPTER 1

April 04, 1988
Late Christian Era
Window Table 101
Phebe’s Bar and Grill
Bowery at East Fourth
New York City NY 10014

To: Mr. Franklin P. Anderson
Artistic Director
Orbit Ensemble Theatre
Wherever In Hell
I know it’s on the West Side

Dear Franklin:
Thank you for your very proper letter thanking me for mine thanking God for making you Artistic Director of Orbit Ensemble at last. Please don’t thank me for thanking you for thanking me. We can’t keep not meeting like this. I attribute the formality of your reply to your having dictated it to some yuppie spy at Orbit, surely only to take advantage of corporate postage. Still squirreling, are you? You can take the boy out of Off-Off Broadway, but not the Off-Off Broadway out of the boy (I most piteously pray).
Or perhaps your propriety was in response to my addressing you as “Franklin.” Please, a mere wandering playwright can’t call the Autistic Director of America’s Major Drama Supermart “Klin,” can he?
Or can I? Well, “Klin,” then. Again. Klin, I am as tickled as a kid with a dildo to know that you are at last in charge after twenty years of ass-, boot-, and apple- -kissing, -licking, and -polishing at that sell-out Byzantine whore-hive.
I wondered who’d slither up the rungs when I saw in the Scoop (no less!) that Cap had abdicated “to do some real living now when time may be short for us all.” Took fear of the Big Bug to make him unhand American theatre, huh? (Or did he, as rumor smiles, simply leave it flat for his first solid offer to direct films?) And Burn, no doubt, is too Burned-out to focus on other playwrights’ fantasies, and Willy and Peggy are in telly, and Viv and Rod are with God or in the sod. Leaves only Cinderella you. “Loyal” to “royal” in twenty twirls around the sun.
And I see you’re actually producing a gay play–about A.I.D.S., of course. That should work for your subscription audience: They love to see us dying of a withering disease.
Got time at the top to read long letters? Beware. I have the motive, the means, and the opportunity: I have twenty years of vintage bile, just fermenting to boiling point; I have Flair pens and Prism notebooks from every school where I’ve ever lectured on The Origins of Underground Theatre, and I have diddledy-squat-zilch else to do. I caught my latest producer today, you see, pick-pocketing the big bucks my latest, late, play raised to benefit that new gay high school; she chose to close our show rather than face audit; and since I returned to New York only to benefit the kids, here I sit idol-idle, reflecting in the glass wall of Phebe’s Bar and Grill, sucking my coffee and blowing my Kool while schools of topical, tropical punks flush by.
Phebe’s used to be full of Off-Off Broadway artists; now it’s full of the audience for the Drama Loft’s non-verbal theatre–and of course you can’t talk to them. One could write a play, of course. One always has. One could commence one’s Later Works. But later, Works. Yes, it’s happened. Right this way, see the ruins: Mister Mass Production disdains to add a new butter-pat to the pyramid of fame. For the first time since the dawn when we hauled Burn’s first set into the Buono, I don’t want to write a play, please. How will Off-Off Broadway survive? As a mess of grant-grubbing grind-houses weekly auditioning swill for the Pig Time, which is all it’s been for a decade now anyway, that’s how!
Oh, Klin, how did it get like this? It didn’t start like this. It started as the Espresso Buono, for Christ’s sake. How did the first free art-theatre world in human history fall into the paws of foundation-fondling pickpockets? Once we would have blamed it on their advanced age, but these grubs are our age (which I choose to think of as “twice twenty-five,” thanks). Some of them actually knelt beside us at the birth, and now–like the bruised bum currently sliming my glass wall with his rainbow nose–they’re panhandling for endowments like they’d never passed an honest hat!
Woops. Probably not the way to rave to someone just elevated to head honcho-hood at a hit-and-run haven like Orbit, hey?
Oh, Klin, Klin, Klin, is it as bad there as rumor smiles and smiles it is? I don’t know, you know. Remember how Burn answered when his first fans said his plays were true to life? “Are they? Hey, I don’t know. I don’t live. I’m an obsessive invert recluse who spends all his time alone, trying to write well. Did I guess right? Is it lifelike? Is life like that?” That’s me, back from two-score years tramping the Earth as Johnny Theatreseed, winning plaques for “encouraging high-school theatre and youth,” asking you, who spent that duodecade subscribing audiences to Orbit: “Is it awful there? How awful is it?” Willy and Peggy stake me to lavish lunches and never mention their years in the Orbit gears; I can’t ask them. And I haven’t talked with Burn and Cap since our Barbaric Big Quarrel (or Bar. B. Q.) when y’all first announced Orbit; I can’t ask them. Can I ask you? I can ask you. I ask you: Is Orbit the Capitalist harem and Freudian torture-chamber that its rejects report? Do y’all do unto others only to get even for the dreck you feel you have to do? Is life like that? Must it stay like that?
Everyone knows Twinkies and petroleum are poison, but we also know the economy would collapse on us if such killer industries closed. We’d rather fry Mohammedans than try electric cars. Is it like that with the yuppie-drivel industry, too? Would they stop subscribing if y’all stopped underwriting their masochistic narcissism? The late Orbit plays I’ve read, even Burn’s, tell them, “You, you are the center of existence; your childhood disappointments are the only important things in the universe; but none of them is so bad it can’t be solved by one winsome chat.”
Is gloop therapy the last task of the Western poet? Or is it still possible to rake through the trash and the cash, make a clearing, build a campfire, and start something simple and loving, honest and kind?
Yes, like the Buono. Hell, I can say it. Like the Espresso Buono. It did happen, you know, only half our lives ago, about halfway between our current opposing glass houses. A stone’s throw. We threw some of the first stones. We were part of it. Parts of it. It was real. Is real. Certainly real-er than this clattering dive I’m cluttering-up now. I’m eating only because they let me run a tab. Which they never try to collect. Because I made this dump world-famous once, you know. But why, as they said at the top of the Tower of Babel, start on another story? I want to remember the Buono.
Hell, I choose to remember the Buono. Barred and grilled, reflecting on dayglo punks and rainbow bums, glaring back at a sun like an enflamed dickhead setting at your end of Fourth Street, stranded among obits and orbits, Flairs and Prisms, grounds and ashes, emitting puns like pawns, I recall the Buono!
*****************************

screenplay SOUND by Robert Patrick

 

“SOUND”
an original screenplay
by
Robert Patrick

c 2006
ROBERT PATRICK
#211
1837 N. Alexandria Ave.
L.A, CA 90027
Tel: (323) – 661-4737
rbrtptrck@aol.com

SOUND

FADE IN

EXT. LOS ANGELES – NIGHT

Through a row of palm trees, we see in the far distance a tall, twinkling electric sign—bulbs, not neon, clearly a 1920’s movie marquee sign. Suddenly from around it, the beams of several Klieg lights appear and criss-cross, the unmistakable symbol of a Hollywood premiere.

Over the horizon an enormous full moon rises.

EXT: PASADENA – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

The back of a fantastic mansion built in steps down the sloping face of a cliff—in other words, visitors would enter at the top of the cliff into the top story. Other floors cascade down to end in a vast swimming-pool and jungle-like grounds. The bottom (first) floor is ablaze with lights. Through a long row of French windows, unidentifiable figures scurry about. The next few floors are dark. A tower room has a single lit window, its curtains closed.

The rising moon’s light hits the tower. A silhouette comes to the window, sweeps the curtains aside.

GLORIA stands at the window, a young woman with startling eyes whose face is covered with cream. She wears a turban and a kimono.

POV GLORIA

The moon rises above the palm trees, past the Klieg lights into a dark sky filled with stars.

GLORIA

Throws her head back in silent laughter, whips the curtains closed. Her silhouette flings off the kimono and turban.

THE MANSION

The light in the tower goes out. The moon’s light creeps down the mansion to reveal detail. The roofs are of red tile, the mansion itself is pink, wrought iron abounds, the terrace is lush with potted palms, the swimming pool bedecked with a canopy of Japanese lanterns.

The many figures on the first floor continue to bustle about.

INT. BALLROOM – NIGHT – CONTNUOUS

The figures are many male SERVANTS in black. They wear white face masks. Some arrange potted plants and life-sized statues of gods of all faiths around the ballroom. Others take a cover off a grand piano in a corner and arrange chairs and music stands around it.

CLOSE ON FRANZ

FRANZ is an impressive major-domo, impeccably dressed in 1920’s style. Silently he directs the servants. A DOORBELL RINGS. Franz gestures for a Servant to answer it.

Franz strides across the ballroom floor to correct the placement of a statue, a plant. WE SEE in his passage that a line of French doors connects the ballroom to the long terrace. There are doors and steps leading off of the ballroom to other rooms.

INT. HALLWAY – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Tiled stairs lead down into the ornate hallway. A Servant leads MUSICIANS carrying their instruments down the stairs. Other Servants take the Musicians’ coats. Servant and Musicians go into

THE BALLROOM – CONTINUOUS

The Servant leads the Musicians to the piano. Musicians take instruments from their cases. Servants remove the cases. Musicians sit, ready to play. They all look at

FRANZ

Franz stands in the middle of the floor, holding a stopwatch. He waves a hand. MUSIC begins, glorious music. Franz looks up to

CLOSE ON

Gloria’s face. Her masklike, perfect 1920’s make-up only accentuates the vitality of her radiant eyes. PULL BACK to reveal her stunning diamond jewelry, a white feather fan nearly as big as she, a very abbreviated dress of silver sequins, perfect legs.
Gloria stands on a raised observation platform from which graceful stairs lead down to the ballroom. Behind her, tall statues of various gods guard a carefully-set dining table.

Franz approaches her, bows carefully.

FRANZ: Madame?

GLORIA: Is it time, Franz?

FRANZ: It is time, Madame.

GLORIA: Everything is perfect?

A Servant appears with a tray bearing a glass of champagne. Gloria takes it without looking. The Servant retires.

NOTE: Throughout the film, at all but the most intimate moments, Servants appear with whatever is needed—unnoticed except where specified.

FRANZ: Everything is perfect, Madame.

GLORIA: Everything must be perfect. The most important event in human history will happen here tonight. What are the climatic conditions?

FRANZ: Madame will be pleased to observe?

Gloria descends the terrace and walks across the ballroom out onto the terrace. Franz follows.

EXT. THE TERRACE – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

GLORIA: Franz, the night is radiant!

FRANZ: Thank you, Madame.

POV GLORIA

The fabulous jungle below, the line of palms, the Klieg lights, the bold moon.

ANGLE ON GLORIA

She toasts the sight.

GLORIA: Nothing that we see is natural, Franz. Los Angeles was built by human will, human imagination, upon a deadly desert. And do you know why? Because the climate here is suitable for stars! Stars grow here, the first new stars in a trillion years. Oh, Moon! Wait till you see the stars I have gathered here tonight!

DOORBELL RINGS. Franz speeds away to answer it. Gloria basks for a moment in the spotlight of the moon, then wheels decisively and enters the ballroom.

FLOOW GLORIA

She crosses the ballroom, ascends to the observation platform, continues through a door and across a vast, vaulted entrance hall packed with statues, tapestries, armor, paintings. She STOPS at the foot of a flight of stairs down which Franz leads BILL, an older man, lean and taciturn, who wears a Stetson hat, a western-cut tuxedo, and many honorary medals and chains, and MARY, an older woman, very pretty and vivacious, in a matronly gown bedecked with somewhat out-of-date jewelry, her gray hair in a fashionable, very short marcelled cut.

GLORIA: (curtseys) Bill! Mary! The king and queen of Hollywood! You honor my humble home.

BILL: Now get up, Glory, you’re the royalty here.

GLORIA: (rising) No, I divorced him. But with you here, I do feel at least a princess of moving pictures.

Gloria takes Bill’s and Mary’s arms and leads them into the ballroom.

INT> BALLROOM – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

MARY: Oh, dear, Gloria, don’t talk that way. My poor dear Doug used to talk that way toward the end.

GLORIA: And he was right. We are royalty!

MARY: Oh, Doug went ‘way past that! When Doug Junior played one of his father’s old roles, Doug didn’t call it treason.

GLORIA: No?

MARY: No. He called it heresy!

ALL laugh. Mary shakes her head vivaciously.

BILL: What kind of reviews did young Doug get?

MARY: Well, appropriately enough—he got crucified!

ALL laugh again. Mary shakes her head again.

MARY: Oh, I must stop doing that. I don’t have those long golden curls anymore.

BILL: (In awe of the ballroom) Lord God, Glory. You young stars build like them pharaohs in Egypt. How big is this place?

GLORIA: Big enough that mister Griffith could have filmed his spectacles here. Big enough to swallow Intolerance. Ha! Yes! Big enough to produce The Birth of a Nation!

MARY: Gloria, dear, you seem a little feverish.

GLORIA: I have a great announcement to make—later. That’s all. Please enjoy the house. I hear a car approaching.

Gloria leaves Bill and Mary.

BILL: Darn, I wish she hadn’t brought up ol’ D.W. Griffith.

MARY: I know That poor thing. Stuck in the east, making those tiny little movies. I wonder if Gloria realizes how fast a star can fall? (Brightly) Say, Bill, why is a director like a blind man?

BILL: I dunno, Mary. Why?

MARY: Because he’s lost without his spectacles!

They laugh, Mary shaking her head, then stopping

MARY: I’ve got to stop doing that.

INT. ENTRANCE HALL – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Gloria waits at the foot of the stairs. Don them comes ERICH, a ferociously dignified and aristocratic man in flawless evening-wear—and MAE, an absurdly pretty blond concealing some voluminous costume under a great black cloak.

GLORIA: Erich, you are the only man on Earth more dignified than my butler.

ERICH: (kisses her had) Always your servant, Gloria.

GLORIA: How was I clever enough to persuade you to leave the set of The Merry Widow?

ERICH: The Merry Widow has, unfortunately, come to a halt.

MAE: (screeching voice) Hello, Gloria!

ERICH: A screeching halt. You know Mae.

GLORIA: Of course. Mae and I and Pola, we were all bathing beauties together.

MAE: I came in costume.

A Servant takes Mae’s cape, revealing her near-nude beauty decorated extravagantly in white egret feathers. Combine with her chalk-white make-up, bouquet-like mound of platinum curls, and her dangling diamond jewelry, her eternal agitation makes her look delicate, fragile, a moth, however she sounds.

GLORIA: (surveying Mae) Erich, The Merry Widow must be amazing.

ERICH: “Amazed” originally meant “paralyzed.” In that sense, The Merry Widow is amazed. Mae, do you hear the music?

MAE: No…

ERICH: Do you hear the champagne bubbling?

MAE: No….

ERICH: Of course you do. Go find the music and the champagne. Imagine that you are in Vienna.

MAE: I keep telling you, I’ve never been to Vienna!

ERICH: Then think of the simulated Vienna on Sound Stage Twenty-Three where we have kept a thousand extras working overtime for weeks. Go in there and imagine that you are The Merry Widow.

MAE: I’ve been trying…

Erich gives her a look that would quiet a mad bull.

MAE: I’ll try.

Mae exits toward the ballroom.

GLORIA: Erich—you and Mae?

ERICH: What is left of me. What is left of Mae. Come, let me look at you. My little tomboy starlet has become a supernova!

GLORIA: Has anyone ever actually seen a supernova?

ERICH: Nineteen hundred years ago in Bethlehem, I and two other wise men. Is there a way out of here not through your perfect party?

GLORIA: This door leads to a perfect patio.

She leads him through a door.

INT. BALLROOM – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

BILL: I wonder why poor little Gloria’s so het up? This here house is too new to be haunted.

MARY: Maybe it’s living here alone since she took her prince back to Europe.

BILL: These kids spend ever’thing. They think they’ll be makin’ them big salaries forever.

MARY: Oh, be quiet with your pessimism. Here comes that poor Mae Murray.

POV BILL AND MARY

Mae enters the ballroom, clutching herself as if cold and frightened. She looks up at Bill and Mary. They raise their glasses to her. She shivers.

EXT. PATIO – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Gloria and Erich stroll.

GLORIA: Erich, I need everything to be perfect. Tell em what’s wrong.

ERICH: Ah, nothing actually. Only The Merry Widow, which does not yet exist.

GLORIA: Is that why Mae…?

ERICH: Why Mae? Why me? The studio gave me a marshmallow to direct. I am filling their sugar-cake with venom.

GLORIA: They say it’s already the most expensive picture ever made.

ERICH: Absurd to concern themselves with that when our work plays on every continent.

GLORIA: Yes! yes!…But something is wrong.

ERICH: Yes. At the heart of my poisonous confection is—a tart.

GLORIA: Mae.

ERICH: It should have been you.

GLORIA: Alas, the studio reserves me for lovesick princess pictures.

ERICH: Yes. So it has become necessary to transform Mae.

GLORIA: Well, if anyone can do it surely you—

ERICH: I hate what I am having to do to her. No one ever asked the pumpkin if it wished to become a golden coach.

INT. BALLROOM – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Mae stands in the trembling shadows of a great potted plant. Mary and Bill approach her.

MARY: Little Mae. My, don’t you look all grown-up!

BILL: What you doin’ hidin’ there?

MAE: Wild Bill. You’re wild Bill.

BILL: I ain’t my stand-in.

MARY: Whatever is wrong, dear?

MAE: I’ve—been working—been being worked–very hard. Erich—wants so much of me. More than anyone has ever wanted before.

BILL: Yeah, it’s getting; harder an’ harder to figure out what the people want.

MAE: No one could be—all that he wants of me. It’s horrible. He—peels you like an onion. He removes what you—pretend to be, what you think you really are, he even removes what you really are, and then promises to turn you into—something else. Something only he knows—if he knows it. I’m half-dead, half-completed. I’ve disappeared. It’s a horrible way to be.

BILL: Well, I always say, an honest day’s work for an honest ten thousand dollars.

A Servant provides them with drinks.

Mae takes one.

Her glass trembles in her hand.

With a ferocious and costly act of will, Mae steadies her hand until the champagne stands still and level in her glass.

Mae smiles in triumph. Bill and Mary toast her.

She flinches in shock at their movement.

Suddenly the entire mansion shakes with a small earthquake. Mae screams and flings her glass into the air. MUSIC stops.

ANGLE ON

Mae’s glass shatters at the feet of Gloria and Erich as they enter the ballroom.

Everyone stands shocked, transfixed.

CLOSE ON

A chandelier still trembles from the earthquake.

Gloria laughs. All laugh. MUSIC begins again. Gloria flings her glass into the air. Erich, Mary, and Bill do likewise. Servants replace their drinks and dive to clean up broken glass, spilled champagne.

MARY: Erich, darling. I have the cutest joke. Why is a director like a blind man?

ERICH: Because he cannot see the mere real world, Mary. Only the dream he must make others see.

MARY: Oh, that’s not funny.

ERICH: It is the greatest joke in the world—because the world then sees what the director dreamed—and believes that it is real.

MARY: You sound too much like Doug. He thought he was more important than priests and politicians.

ERICH: Easily. What do priests and politicians have? Words, mere words. But we, thank God—

Gloria reacts to the word, “God,” and listens attentively to Erich’s speech.

ERICH: (continued) We do not bother with words. We present a living, moving world. The real world imitates it. When you, Mary, skipped and dimpled across the screen, mothers turned to their daughters and asked “Why can’t you be like that?” When you, Bill, rode across the desert, boys in the towns built over that desert saw the possibility of heroism. America is a creation of the wordless screen.

MARY: Oh, Erich, I don’t know.

ERICH: I know. You were happy if the people liked you and the studio paid you. I will show the people their world as it really is, a masterpiece of greed and corruption.

MARY: But, Erich, if people really imitate the pictures, won’t pictures like that only make them worse?

ERICH: Nothing could make them worse than they are—apes who swallow the studio’s patriotic pap and run to war.

BILL: But if you make Americans cynical, they’ll get beat by other countries.

ERICH: There are no other countries. Film has made the whole world depend on me for its dreams. I have humbled the kings. Now I shall humble the true rulers of the world—the studio bosses.

A middling earthquake shakes the room. MUSIC stops. The guests, the glasses of champagne, statues of strange gods, palm fronds, tremble. The guests gasp. Mae screeches in her hideaway. Erich roars with laughter.

ERICH: That was the earth, settling into its new orbit.

After a tense pause, Gloria laughs in delight and applauds Erich. Bill and Mary join her. The Musicians strike up a new TRIUMPHANT TUNE.

GLORIA: Champagne! Champagne for the King of the New World!

Servants present champagne as Erich and Gloria, Bill and Mary, dance as couples.

Mae watches nervously, hiding among fr0onds.

The dance mutates into a mock coronation, acted broadly and expertly by Gloria, Erich, Mary, and Bill in the style of silent films.

At Franz’s silent command, servants roll to thrones onto the floor and unroll a carpet leading to them.

Erich advances in state and mounts a throne. Mary snatches a wreath of decorative flowers and crowns Erich.

Erich holds out a hand to Gloria, offering her the second throne. She shakes her head in refusal. The MUSIC STOPS.

GLORIA: No offense, Erich. You see, I have already been royalty. I’m aiming higher now.

Erich looks for a moment as if he is actually offended, then he shrugs.

ERICH: You were, after all, merely a princess.

General laughter again, and Erich descends as MUSIC recommences. Franz gestures for Servants to disperse the royal regalia. Bill and Mary dance. Erich, still wearing his crown, and Gloria go to a buffet table.

ERICHL You were never difficult to direct before, Gloria.

GLORIA: Forgive my treason, sire. I have—loftier ambitions.

ERICH: To marry another nobleman from dear old doddering Europe?

Erich tosses his crown away. A Servant catches it.

GLKORIA: Europe may not be doddering anymore, Erich.

ERICH: If it showed any signs of life when you were there, Gloria, it was only a second childhood.

GLORIA: A second childhood—or rebirth?

ERICH: Is this a puzzle/ I am puzzled already. This is such a small party for the Queen of Cinema to throw. By now there should be limousines in the swimming pool, starlets swinging fro chandeliers.

GLORIA: I am not intimidated because you remember my childhood games, your majesty. I was, after all, only imitating your films.

As they talk, they stroll in to a—

INT. PASSAGEWAY – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

A vaulted ceiling and many European art items.

ERICH: You brought back more from Europe than your prince.

GLORIA: I went there thinking that I could find and buy culture.

ERICH: And instead you found rot?

GLORIA: NO. I found Heaven.

ERICH: I’m glad you enjoyed your prince, of course.

GLORIA: Oh, you fool. Erich, wherever I went in Europe, do you know what they were talking about?

ERICH: There next war to end all wars to end wars to end wars?

GLORIA: No! No. I went through museums, temples. Cathedrals. Wherever I went, the people cried, “Gloria! Gloria!”

ERICH: It is charming to see you discovering your fame and flowering into an egotist. You must insist on a raise.

GLORIA: Is that all that you think has happened to me?

ERICH: The studio hid from you the extent of your popularity. Of course you are loved. You were made for love. Remember, I made you.

GLORIA: Oh, Erich, only listen. You said Bill and Mary reached all of America. But, Erich, that’s barely the beginning.

ERICH: You are feverish, darling.

GLORIA: Oh, Erich, how can I make you hear?

GLORIA stops before a huge panting of the Tower of Babel.

GLORIA: Out there are millions of people. They call themselves French, Moroccan, English, Eskimo. Ten thousand years ago they spoke one language and assembled to build a great tower to heaven. And God grew jealous and struck them with the curse of languages. And they misunderstood one another and went to war. In the beginning was the word, and the word was war.

ERICH: Rest, Gloria, rest.

GLORIA: But something new came into the warring world. We have been given the greatest force to come into that world since the warlike babble of sound—the universal, wordless, silent screen. We have the power to unite the world.

ERICH: If Mae could see your face right now, she could play my Widow tomorrow.

GLORIA: Yes! My face! My instrument! My instrument with which I play on the hearts of humanity!

ERICH: You look as you did when we were lovers, back at the dawn of time. Come and dance with me.

Erich takes Gloria’s hand.

GLORIA: Oh, yes, yes! I want to dance with you!

Erich leads Gloria to

INT. BALLROOM – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Gloria is now leading Erich.

GLORIA: Franz! Tell the orchestra to begin the tango!

Franz, surprised, raises an eyebrow.

GLORIA: Yes, now!

Franz clicks his heel and gestures to Musicians.

GLORIA: (to Erich) You do tango?

ERICH: The tango is an ancient dance of conquest and seduction.
GLORIA: It is new to Hollywood.
ERICH: Everything is new to you ignorant American children 1
He laughs. Music begins, an exquisite tango, and they
dance
As their conversation progresses, the dance is choreographed to express Gloria’s growing seductiveness and Erich’s increasing fascination with her idea.
INT. FOYER – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS
Franz answers a telephone. He unplugs the phone and brings it into the ballroom.
CAMERA TRACKS with Franz as he brings the phone into the Ballroom and plugs it into a jack. He goes to where Erich and Gloria are dancing and extends it to Gloria.
FRANZ: Madame, it is the studio head, for you.
GLORIA: Oh
Gloria starts to leave the floor. Erich whirls her back into his arms.
ERICH: No. The hearts of the world are wailing, “Gloria! Gloria!” Make your master wait.
They stand poised, Gloria almost on the floor in a classic tango dip.
GLORIA: (finally) Tell him–I am unavailable.
FRANZ: Yes, Madam. (into phone) Madam is unavailable.
ERICH: You see? You may dismiss your master. He is in fact your slave. As all men are, my darling.
They dance.
GLORIA: Do you like the tango?
ERICH: Don’t use foolish words..
GLORIA: No, 1 mean this particular piece of music. Do you like it?
ERICH: It is beautiful, ravishing.
GLORIA: I had it composed just for tonight.

Erich stops their dance.
ERICH: I see. In honor of some young and handsome guest who has yet to come?
GLORIA: In honor of the man who has made the tango the heartbeat of the world.
ERICH: You mean that Rudolph Valentino boy. I begin to see. So we are all dolls to decorate your seduction?
GLORIA: You understand nothing.
ERICH: Aren’t you beyond flirtations with actors?
GLORIA: You were an actor once. Have you forgotten?
ERICH: I have forgotten — nothing.
They dance, swept up a spell of remembrance of a romance that must have been intense.
GLORIA: That Valentino boy —
ERICH: Oh, Gloria, don’t fawn over the latest Adonis.
GLORIA: That Valentino boy, that latest Adonis, danced a tango in a film, The next day the world broke out in tango music. He has suddenly become a star, the greatest male star.
ERICH: They come and go. I remain forever.
GLORIA: He became a star sooner than I expected, I have had to rush my plan.
ERICH: Your plan.
GLORIA: Erich, listen to me.
ERICH: Gloria, speak to me.
GLORIA: His film glorified war.
ERICH: The French call war “la gloire,” the glory, “Gloria.”

GLORIA: He tangos. They tango. He glorifies war. They war.
ERICH: He died in the film disillusioned about war.
GLORIA: They will be disillusioned. They will die. They will imitate him.
ERICH: Boys always die in war. He will make them feel romantic about it. Gloria, this is great tango!
GLORIA: Erich, come with me. Listen to me.
She takes his hand and leads him onto the great terrace.
EXT. TERRACE – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS
GLORIA: Erich, you talk of priests and politicians and employers.. You say we have replaced them.
22
ERICH: I have replaced them.
GLORIA: Oh, you can’t do without stars! Astrologers say the stars command humanity!
ERICH: Another ancient art, unworthy of you.
GLORIA: Then what do. you say to science? Science, too, says the stars command us. “Every particle of matter in the universe attracts and is attracted by every other particle with a force directly proportionate to their mass and inversely proportionate to the distance between them.”
ERICH: Elementary physics.
GLORIA: But it confirms the astrologers. Bodies alter one another’s courses. And the greater and nearer they are, the greater their force.
ERICH: Irrefutably.
GLORIA: Well, we are the stars nearest to the human race!
ERICH: Gloria, you have gone beyond a fever into a storm.
GLORIA: Ride the storm with me! Erich, we dance and the next day the world dances. We war and the world wars. Think if we only knew what we were doing!
ERICH: Anyone who knew what he was doing would very soon die of shame.
GLORIA: We can make of them anything we will! You want only to defeat the masters, beat them at their game, make the mobs as cynical as you! You think so small1
ERICH: Tell that to the studio bookkeepers 1
GLORIA: You want to be a king. We are kings already. We stand here on our balcony, like royalty reviewing the troops 1
ERICH: (points down) But no troops, Gloria, no troops below.
GLORIA: (points up) Above, Erich, above. We can command the very stars in their courses.
ERICH: Gloria —
GLORIA: Leave behind the quest to be a king! Aim for something more!
ERICH: What more?
GLORIA: Erich, we can be — and I say this with all gravity — we can be gods.
The MUSIC stops.
ERICH: The music has stopped. GLORIA: The world imitates us. They dance as we dance, dress as we dress, kill as we kill. They even imitate us when we kiss.
She kisses him. New MUSIC plays within. The kiss is long.
WE SEE Bill and Mary watching from the Great Hall, and Mae from her trembling shadows.
ERICH: Gloria, this is insane.
GLORIA: It would be insane if it weren’t true. How are we different from gods?
ERICH: We don’t live forever.
GLORIA: Film is light! Light lives forever I When idols of stone and gold have cracked and melted, our shadows will teach humanity how to live! Forever!
ERICH: Gloria, what are you up to?
GLORIA: I want to announce the greatest of all human actions. I want — I want to perform “Camille.”
ERICH: (disappointed) “Camille?” That tired old sentimental war-horse? Gloria, “Camille” has been done to death.
GLORIA: Never! It ahs never been done! Who is Camille? The whore who becomes a saint. The human soul that climbs from the lowest love to the highest. It is the story every religion has tried to tell. If you tell it with words r it is trite and sentimental. Film is the way! No language! No lies! We can show the souls of the world how to rise! And they will imitate us! We have the means! We have the mission! We have the audience! We have, God knows, the star!
ERICH: Then what are you waiting for?
GLORIA: The studio will never let me do it. I need backing. I need a great director. And to make this myth of love absolute, I need the perfect object. I need Valentino!
ERICH: Reach out and take him, then. Who cares?
GLORIA: He has become a star. He must be persuaded.
ERICH: Make him an offer.
GLORIA: I must offer him everything.
ERICH: So do.
GLORIA: Do you understand what I am asking?
ERICH: I will direct, of course.
GLORIA: Oh, Erich!
ERICH: It will be the greatest picture ever made. Of course it must come from me. Shall we rejoin your guests?
GLORIA: Then I may use your name to secure backing?
ERICH: You have only to tell them it will be great. They will assume my participation.
GLORIA: It will be more than great, Erich. It will be the new testament.
ERICH: You are quite mad.
GLORIA: Then why don’t you reject me?
ERICH: Madwomen make the most radiant stars. That is why I am driving Mae mad. When will you approach this Valentino?
GLORIA: He will be here — tonight.
ERICH: I will take a look at him to see if he will do for my masterpiece.
Gloria, shocked and amused by Erich’s colossal gall, watches him walk away and despite herself, laughs.
MOVING WITH GLORIA
as she wanders around the terrace. She sees Bill and Mary in the library.
INT. LIBRARY – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS
Bill is admiring a Frederick Remington sculpture.
BILL: Now, that’s what I call art.
MARY: Shame they don’t make Westerns anymore.
BILL: They will. ‘Course it’ll be too late for me. I s’pose they’ll be makin’ charmin’ little girl pictures again, too.
MARY: Way too late for me. Oh, Bill, where does it go, all that wild, youthful clawing for fame and attention?
BILL: For money, y’mean.
MARY: Money is just what you’re left with. If you’re lucky.
BILL: Well, you been plenty lucky.
MARY: So have you, you old coot. You fairly jangle with it.
BILL: (indicating his medals and chains) Hell, I jangle without it.
MARY: And of course I have my charities.
BILL: Oh, yeah, me, too. Charities.
MARY: I can never decide if the charities bore me because I hate to let go of the money —
BILL: — or because you know all the money in the world won’t soak up half the misery.
MARY: If only there was something a person could do that would save the world –
A beat as they consider it.
BILL & MARY: And make a whoppin’ profit!
They laugh uproariously.
GLORIA: (pops through French doors) Won’t you ask me in? A vampire can’t enter a house unless he’s invited.
BILL: Hell, Gloria, you ain’t no vampire.
MARY: You’re a princess.
BILL: Pola was ze vamp!
MARY: Now, don’t mention Pola, Bill. You know she and Gloria don’t speak.
GLORIA: Nonsense, Pola and I were always the best of friends.
BILL Who? The princess and the vamp?
MARY & BILL: Keessss me, my fool!
GLORIA: (laughs good-naturedly) Hey, you two kids should act! But seriously, I am a vampire tonight. I’m here to do what vampires do — suck your life’s blood — and make you immortal. Sit down, won’t you? And let me tell you my plan…
Intrigued, Bill and Mary sit to hear Gloria’s sales-talk.
INT. BALLROOM – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS
Franz stands in attendance on Erich, who sits in an armchair smoking, sipping champagne, clearly seeing a vision. A DOORBELL RINGS.
Franz looks at his watch and frowns. Clearly no one is yet expected. He summons two Servants and the two of them quickly go to
INT. HALLWAY – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS
Franz and two Servants enter hallway. Servants grab halberds from suits of armor at the foot of the stairs. Down the stairs come DOROTHY, a petite, pretty brunette, carrying a cocktail shaker, and NOEL, a suave Englishman. They are in considerably more casual clothes than the stars.
DOROTHY: Now, don’t bring out the Sunday weapons for us. We’re just plain folks.

NOEL: (to Franz) Miss Swanson, you grow lovelier with the years.
With complete aplomb, Noel and Dorothy descend to the floor, followed after a stunned pause by Franz and the Servants. Erich enters idly and observes them.
NOEL: Why do we find ourselves descending into Paradise, Dorothy?
DOROTHY: It’s the earthquake: everything’s topsy-turvy.
ERICH: Dear Franz, call off your guards. It is only two poets come to sing for their suppers. Miss Parker. Mister Coward. I am Erich Von Stroheim.
Dorothy flourishes a cocktail shaker.
DOROTHY: Can you spare a summer neighbor a cup of cocktails?
ERICH: Franz, champagne.
Franz snatches away the rather tacky cocktail shaker and Servants provide Dorothy and Noel with champagne.
NOEL: (to Erich) Admirably done! I heard the whip crack!
DOROTHY: (of champagne} Is this what Miss Swanson bathes in or is it just the kitchen champagne?
NOEL: It’s rude to ask. (toasting Erich) Your health — and don’t I wish I had it.
DOROTHY: We’ve rented the tourist attraction next door.
NOEL: We felt the earth shake and dropped in to complain.
DOROTHY: The truth is we’re both supposed to be writing movies.
NOEL: But all we’ve done is to play anagrams with the producer’s names.

DOROTHY: I’ve been hired to write a film version of “Hamlet.” In three weeks I’ve only convinced them not to call it The Great Dane.

NOEL: I’m here to approve a film of one of my plays. They’ve replaced all my epigrams with sight-gags and are retaining only one preposition from my title. Will you give us refuge?

ERICH: Miss Swanson is to make a great announcement tonight. She will be elated to have such distinguished witnesses. Do come in.

Noel and Dorothy follow Erich.

DOROTHY (whispers) It was my quiet dignity that got us past the guards.

NOEL: Nonsense. He thought I was the Queen of England.

INT. BALLROOM – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

In the ballroom, Erich leaves Dorothy and Noel at the buffet.

ERICH: Please refresh yourselves, I will seek out our hostess.

Erich leaves.

NOEL: Human beings do not require this much space since we began to walk upright. How do they pay for these auditoria?

DOROTHY: How do you think? She rents out roller skates.

Erich approaches the library and eavesdrops on the conversation in progress.

INT. LIBRARY – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Gloria is talking to a fairly rapt Mary and Bill.

GLORIA: And so you see, this is the next step in artistic, even in human, evolution. I shall star, Erich will direct, and you two will supply the backing.

BILL: Whew! You should of been a poet!

GLORIA: I am — we all are.

MARY: Darling, it’s a magnificent conception. But what about the studios? Won’t they blackball us?

GLORIA: They’ll lay their studios at our feet when they see how we outdo them!

BILL: I dunno. Sometimes people’d rather fail alone than succeed in double harness.

MARY: Gloria, dear, I have to ask — since you so clearly believe so fully in this — colossal project — why don’t you back it yourself?

BILL: Did that Prince take all your dough?

MARY Did this palace eat it all up?:

GLORIA: No, no, lord no — no, my money is in the safest place on Earth — the stock market. I’d pawn my jewels like Queen Isabella to discover this new world, but I’ll need them for Camille’s costume! I’m offering you the chance to do what you long to do: save the world — alter history—make fortunes.

BILL: Hmmm. It’s real temptin’. Get back at them studio crooks.

MARY Be associated with an epic.

GLORIA So it’s all sealed!

MARY: But a single little thing, Gloria: “Camille” has two leads. Who do you see playing her lover Armand?

GLORIA: The only man who can: Rudolph Valentino.

There is a pause. Bill whistles in awe.

GLORIA: Yes..

MARY: And Erich has agreed?

GLORIA: Yes, absolutely! He – well, he –

BILL He what, honey?

GLORIA: He is not familiar with the sublime Valentino. He wants to examine him. And so he shall. In only moments the great lover will arrive.

MARY: (With a glance at Bill) Bill….?

BILL (With a glance at Mary) Mary?

MARY: (Tactfully, to Gloria)Gloria, darling, it’s a visionary dream, really it is, and it’s so captivating. And if at the end of the evening, Valentino agrees and Erich still feels like it’s a good idea, well, then, Bill..?

BILL Right, Mary.

GLORIA: I see. Yes, of course, you want security. And you shall have it. Come. I see I have unexpected guests. Let’s go and enjoy ourselves – like the gods on High Olympus!

Gloria graciously ushers them ahead of her to the library door.

GLORIA: Oh, fool that I am, I forgot!

MARY & BILL: What?

GLORIA: The most fun of all! There are two marvelous roles for you two in Camille: Camille’s benevolent protectress, and her handsome rich lover, the Baron [Bah-RONE].

Mary and Bill are fascinated by this. With a sly smile and a wave of her fan, Gloria whisks past them to leave the library.

INT. BALLROOM – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Erich at the door applauds Gloria silently and takes her arm.

GLORIA: But enough boring business. Come, enjoy the party.
(Whispers to Erich)I will get their backing. I will have your services. I will get Valentino. I am not mad!

ERICH: It is possible It is not impossible…

Mary and Bill follow Gloria and Erich into the ballroom.

ANGLE ON

Dorothy and Noel on the balcony overlooking the Ballroom, watching Mae, who stands among fronds listening to music.

DOROTHY: How does she stay that white in this ceaseless sun?

NOEL: Are we sure she’s white? They may have filmed a Negress and shipped us the negative.

DOROTHY: Is she actually trembling like a Pekinese or is she just doing a very restrained shimmy?

NOEL: She is doing whatever she likes, dear. She is the millionaire idol of idle millions.

DOROTHY: How do these women make so much money?

NOEL: By keeping silent, dear.

DOROTHY Cheezit. Here comes our hostess.

DOROTHY’S POV

Gloria’s necklace as Gloria comes nearer.

DOROTHY:{of Gloria’s jewels) Looks like they imported her from Europe stone by stone.

GLORIA: Miss Parker. Mister Coward. Unexpected delights. Won’t you descend and join us?

DOROTHY: (whispers to Noel as they descend) Put back any ashtrays you’ve pocketed. We mustn’t clank.

NOEL: (whispers to Dorothy as they descend) I’d put a stake in your heart if you had one. (kisses Gloria’s hand) Princess! )kisses Mary’s hand) And the little princess.

Mary does the silly head-shake.

Noel reaches for Bill’s hand. Bill withdraws it worriedly. Noel takes it and shakes it heartily.

NOEL: Howdy, pardner! Words cannot tell how pleased I am to be among my film favorites. Not even my words.

MARY: Tosh and piddle, Mister Coward. I bet .you’ve never seen a movie.

NOEL: Half true. I attended the cinema exactly once. I spent half the time begging the matron in front of me to remove her hat, and the other half begging her to put it back on. (bows to Gloria)

My head is yours for the taking, dear lady.

DOROTHY: And that goes double for me, having two heads. Miss Swanson, we shouldn’t have crashed your court like this —

GLORIA: But no, no, you couldn’t be more, welcome. I know your work. And I agree with you about all of the films that have been made so far.

BILL: Hell, I never see movies, neither.

DOROTHY: It’s that hat.

Bill embarrassedly and belatedly removes his hat.

NOEL: (of Mae) Will no one introduce me to this enchanting and apparently enchanted creature?

GLORIA: Forgive me. Mae, darling, this is the distinguished playwright, Noel Coward.

NOEL: (kissing Mae’s hand) I am dazzled.

MAE You, too?

GLORIA: And the esteemed wit, Miss Parker.

DOROTHY: Mrs. Not that it matters. Much.

MA.RY And where is your husband, dear?

DOROTHY: Husband Dear is in New York. Never trust a man who’s three hours ahead of you.

GLORIA: I feel so inadequate. I’ve arranged no entertainment.

ERICH: I’ve no doubt Mister Coward will fill that gap.

NOEL: Certainly, Captain, if it will pay for my passage.

GLORIA: How delightful, (to Franz) Franz, have we time?

Franz checks his watch and nods. Servants place chairs for all but Noel.

BILL: (whispers to Gloria as he sits by her) Hope I understand this.

NOEL: (to pianist) May I occupy your pew?

The pianist humbly rises and yields his place to Noel. Noel sits and accompanies himself through the verse and first chorus of his song.

The band begins to accompany with him as they “get” the chord patterns. As he begins the second chorus, he rises and the pianist slides into place to accompany him.

NOEL (Plays and sings)

(VERSE)
This world has grown degenerate. From every towering minaret Muezzins cry “Time’s passed us by Completely.”
And Darwin said, “Ontogeny Just imitates phylogeny,” Which dear Papa Thought put it rather neatly.
Our efforts to revitalize the gods we used to idolize do not impress this idle, wise terrestrial speck a dent.
And the most polite librarian Says every single Aryan “radition is barbarian Or decadent.
But admitting that we don’t Intend to suicide,
flow shall we spend time to the end?
Regardless of what you decide,
(CHORUS I)
I wanna be a major star of the movies.
I wanna play all day among the swaying palms.
I wanna linger making choices
Among my six Rolls-Royces
And commission scripts
On the apocalypse.
That’s the sort of thing that calms my frenzies.
Ordinary business
Brings on dizziness.
Why be in bondage to stocks?
And bringing those ships into docks
Cannot compete
With planting one’s feet
In sensitive cement blocks.
I wanna be a commissar of the movies.
To run the lives of my ex-wives soothes all my qualms.
Why drive your senses frantic
Conquering the Atlantic?
Be a pacific and terrific movie star!

Noel yields the piano to the pianist and moves among his audience. They are entranced by him.

NOEL:

(CHORUS II)
I’ve gotta be where people are of the movies
And rule the cinema in a miraculous smell of ham.
I wanna go to hearty parties
Where that masculine Bill Hart is
And favor I’ll curry
With sweet Mae Murray
In a house by William Cam-eron Menzies.
Why drive a sick Ford?
I’ll woo Mary Pickford
In one of my myriad yachts.
All of us stars have lots. _
And the press will express
Our happiness
In scandalous candid shots.
But there’s no par-tic-u-lar of the movies
Who doesn’t fawn on Herr Von Stroheim night and day.
And it would take great Samuel Johnson
To define the divine Miss Gloria Swanson
And my delight to be right where you are.
The way I’m overpowered
Should give the greatest coward
The idea
To see a
And be a
Movie star!

General applause.^ As Gloria and her guests rise, their chairs are whisked away by servants.

GLORIA: Bravo1 Bravo!

ERICH: Very clever.

MARY: Charming.

BILL: I got it.

Noel, amidst the applause, shakes hands with the pianist.

NOEL: The Ginza Bar in Singapore, wasn’t it? (the pianist nods) I could never forget those fingers,

BILL: Dawgone, Noel, that was swell. I didn’t think no playwright could ever be such a reg’lar feller.

i ERICH: Oh, I believe Oscar Wilde drank the cowboys under the table.

DOROTHY: Drank and ate.

NOEL Now, none of that.

GLORIA: Mister Coward, what lovely compliments. And what accurate humor. It was all true. That is what movies up until now have been. Something to laugh at. Something to make fun of. But not after tonight, eh, Erich? From tonight we shall elevate them beyond the highest art.

ERICH: Yes, beauty. (wryly to Dorothy and Noel) But, alas, after tonight there will be no use for our charming writer friends.

GLORIA: (taps him with her fan) Erich! They won’t know you’re joking.

NOEL: (aside to Dorothy) Dorothy, they’re contemplating our extermination.

The DOORBELL RINGS. Gloria stiffens and drops her fan. Erich clutches her as if to keep her from falling.

DOROTHY: That’ll be the firing squad.

INT. HALLWAY AND STAIRS – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

FOLLOW Franz as he rushes several floors up to the top of the exterior stairs.

EXT. TOP OF STAIRS – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Against the glowing sky stands the caped silhouette of RUDOLPH VALENTINO. Franz bows to him.

Preceded by Franz, Valentino descends the staircase in the moonlight.

INT. HALLWAY – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Gloria, Erich, Bill, Mary, and Mae stand at the foot of the staircase.

GLORIA: It’s he. All of you, come, help me greet our last guest.

MARY: Who is it?

BILL: Must be the guest of honor, the way ol’ Franz whipped up them stairs.

MAE: Erich, what is it? What’s happening?

GLORIA: Please, please, everyone—

PARTY’S POV

Franz descends the stairs, steps aside to reveal Valentino. Valentino stops on the third or fourth step, a breathtakingly handsome brunet in the world’s best tuxedo.

NOEL: Inevitably, Rudolph Valentino.

DOROTHY: Do you think he’ll autograph my sidewalk?

Gloria, a model of romantic elegance, mounts the bottom step to greet Valentino. He kisses her hand.

GLORIA: Signore Valentino. Welcome. You honor my poor house.

Erich raises a monocle to his eye. From his POV WE SEE the meeting between Valentino and Gloria in black-and-white, with both stars in silent film make-up. We will occasionally see such images, which will be indicated as “ERICH SEES:”

The guests raise champagne to honor the meeting. Gloria takes Valentino’s hand and all go to

INT. BALLROOM – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

A table on the balcony of the ballroom, lavishly decorated and set for dinner.

DOROTHY (to Noel) Wanna bet what we get for dinner?

NOEL Obviously—

NOEL & DOROTHY: –roast peasant.

To shimmering MUSIC, the party sits to dinner. ERICH SEES, in flashes alternating with the color shots of the real dinner, the same scene in black-and-white silent film manner, Camille leading Armand to dinner.

The party is seated thusly: Gloria at the head of the table. To her right, Bill. To her left, Valentino, At the foot of the table, Erich. On his left”, Mae. On his right, Mary. Dorothy is between Mary and Valentino, Noel is between Bill and Mae.

MARY: (in the middle of a story) …So Pola just hated her leading man, and during the big love-scene close-up, she put a beautiful expression on her face but whispered in his ear that he could do something physiologically impossible to himself, and when the movie opened, deaf-mute lip-readers all over the country got her banned by the Legion of Decency!

GLORIA: Oh, Mary, tell, tell! What did Pola say?

MARY: Oh, I can’t tell you. I’ll tell Erich and he can tell you .

She whispers into Erich’s ear. Erich guffaws and whispers to Mae. Mae laughs and turns to whisper to Dorothy, who slides quickly down in her seat to avoid the confidence. Mae whispers to Bill instead, who laughs and whispers to Gloria. Gloria laughs and turns to whisper to Valentino, who slides his chair back and offers her Noel. Noel, dying to hear, is disappointed when Gloria sits back in her chair with a sour face. Noel turns to Mary, who hides her face and says:

MARY: No, no, I can’t. She tosses her head, stops.

MARY: Damn!

BILL: Well, Mister Valentino, you shore have made yourself a hit. You never do know what the public’s gonna go for next. Who would ever have thought they’d want a man decked-out in wigs and costumes? And painted up?

MARY: Oh, Bill. You were decked-out in those Western costumes until you could barely walk.

BILL: Now, Mary, that’s American costumes X was in.

MARY: —and as for paint, my, you looked so pretty in your lipstick and face-powder1

BILL: Now, we had to wear that just to have faces at all —

MARY: —and besides, even though you didn’t ever kiss the girl, we all knew that you were secretly in love with your horse!

Mary laughs at Bill’s discomfort.

BILL:(kidding along) Mary, not in front of the younger people.

MARY: Why, you were darn near as decadent as one of Erich’s orgies that make the preachers so mad!

Erich is casually chatting with Mae.

ERICH: The producer objected to my spending ten thousand dollars to buy silk and lace lingerie for all the women. “Erich,” he said, “It will not show on the screen!” And I responded, “Only in the private version I am making for myself. Shall I send you a copy?”

Erich notices that attention is focused on him.

ERICH: A toast to our honored guest. Mister Valentino, I salute you.

VALENTINO: Thank you. I am unaccustomed to such — august attention.

BILL: Aw, come on, Rudy. Can I call you Rudy? You can’t say you ain’t been gettin’ the press! Why, I never seen such press since Pola Negri was big!

MARY: In fact, Rudy, the way they photograph you, I have to confess that sometimes I almost think you are Pola Negri1

BILL: (after laughter) But now don’t be offended, Rudy. We all know a actor has got to sell a gimmick if he can. All this slick-backed hair and fancy costumes and powder and paint, don’t worry, we all know you’re a regular feller at heart.

ERICH: At heart…Mister Valentino, I am sure that long before you were a star, you were accustomed to attention?

VALENTINO: …People have — always been kind to me.

ERICH: Oh, I am sure they have. Let us be frank, the world is what it is. Surely a young man of your beauty has always excited the hearts of those who appreciate a fair face?

VALENTINO: It is true, of course, that one has not been — without admirers.

ERICH: Yet you seem strangely modest. Most usually a person blessed with beauty becomes insolent, romantic, exciting. I find none of these deplorable qualities in your personality.

Gloria looks sharply at Erich. What is he up to?

VALENTINO: There are — reasons for that.

ERICH: A stern father, a saintly mother?

There is so snide a tone in Erich’s voice that not only Gloria, but “even Bill and Mary look a bit baffled.

VALENTINO: I scarcely remember anything that long ago. Life since has been so — overwhelming.

ERICH: Ah, but do tell us about it, dear boy. (with cutting purpose) There must be so much that you long to tell. To someone,

Mae looks startled. She has heard this before.

VALENTINO: (with a shy look around) It is so hard to say. I know you all so briefly,

ERICH: Nonsense, my man. Here on Olympus among gods, you may tell us anything. You may tell me everything.

MAE: (to herself) On, no.

VALENTINO: It is — very difficult. I am so much admired. It is embarrassing to one of any modesty.

ERICH: Oh, come now. Surely it goes with the territory?

BILL: You have to put up with the fans.

MARY: I miss it even now.

VALENTINO: Yes, of course, one endures the attention of the fans. One adopts — the role that they desire, because one knows it is, after all, the role that they are

ERICH: In love with?

VALENTINO: Yes. They think they are. They think you are the hero in the last movie that they saw you in.

ERICH: Adored you in?

MARY: They just adore us.

VALENTINO: Adored one in.

ERICH: Worshiped one in?

VALENTINO: Yes. Adored. It seems. Worshiped, it seems.

Gloria is watching, wondering. Mae is watching, terrified, as Erich works his charm on Valentino.

ERICH: Hard on such a simple lad.

VALENTINO: It is — disorienting.

ERICH: And surely rife with temptations? What does one do in the face of such demands, such temptations?

VALENTINO: {rapt on Erich) One — laughs at first. It seems so — almost silly — what people — see in one.

ERICH: You refer to the romantic roles the studio casts you in? Or —

VALENTINO: Yes, yes, of course, the roles seem — rather silly, yes, of course that is what I meant, the roles.

ERICH: But is that all? Do you mean something more?

/Mae shakes her head in protest and whispers, “No, no.”

VALENTINO: Sometimes, yes, yes, there is something more.

ERICH: Something more?

Bill and Mary watch in fascination, Gloria. warily.

VALENTINO: There is something more that people seem to see.

MAE No, don’t do it to him.

Erich brushes Mae .away like a fly.

ERICH: That people seem to see — where?

VALENTINO: (with a magnificent shrug) Where? In one. Surrounding one. Or perhaps it is not in oneself that they see it. Perhaps it is in some dark —

ERICH: Auditorium? Theatre?

VALENTINO: Yes, some dark auditorium or theatre in their own souls. People seem to see one as something quite apart from oneself. It is absurd — sometimes.

ERICH: Sometimes?

VALENTINO: Yes, it is absurd sometimes, but at other times it is —

ERICH: Different?

VALENTINO: Yes, obscurely different.

ERICH: Obscurely?

VALENTINO: No, not. obscurely. Mysteriously! Maddeningly, secretly different! Sometimes when one is alone with someone, they seem to see someone completely different from oneself.

ERICH: They seem to see — ?

VALENTINO: I don’t know. In those most private, intimate moments, when one has — surrendered oneself — I speak too freely?

ERICH: Oh, my dear young man, we have all entered bedrooms and found ourselves crucified upon our own images. You may speak freely. .

Mae whispers, “No, no.”

VALENTINO: (again magnificent) Oh, it is all right when one knows what they want I When all they want are the roles one already knows how to portray. It is a game, probably no more ridiculous than the games that are played in the most ordinary bedrooms by the merest —

ERICH: Mortals?

VALENTINO: What a word! By ordinary people.

52

GLORIA: (trying to take control) Who have learned those games from us!

VALENTINO: (blushes) Yes, pardon me, I see you do understand, you must forgive me, I am not accustomed to such frank talk on such subjects, but, yes, the games we play for the cameras, which people learn from us and then long to play themselves, it is silly, it is harmless, it is nothing, nothing, nothing!

ERICH: But then what troubles you?

Valentino looks about at the assembly. He is flustered,
embarrassed, unsure. Obviously he has never broached this I
subject before. . f

VALENTINO: There are things sometime that people seem to —

ERICH: To want from you?

VALENTINO: No! Not only to want! That would not be horrifying. They seem to find them.

Mae leans back, terrified.

VALENTINO: There is a thing that seems to happen in the dark, when the person one is with seems to receive — to experience something that is terrifying, something that — that —

ERICH: Transforms them?

GLORIA: Elevates them!

VALENTINO: That transfigures them! Because of some absurd accident that has given one the appearance, the face of —

ERICH: — something godlike?

VALENTINO: Yes! No! Shameful! Yes, yes, something almost godlike has happened to them. One looks into their eyes and sees oneself reflected there, but one has disappeared and been replaced by something, someone, something else I They have seen —

ERICH: (looking at Gloria) A god?

VALENTINO: Oh, it is obscene, but yes, yes, that is almost what seems to have occurred. I have lain in so many dark rooms, comforting strangers who are weeping with joy for the world they have entered through me, and I know nothing of that world. I have stood before my mirror, looking for what they find there, and I have felt nothing, nothing.

. ERICH: And do you want to go into those dark, flickering rooms and be that god, that deity, do you love to give to others that experience of being in the presence of a god?

VALENTINO: No! No! I want to know it myself. I want to feel what I make others feel. I want to worship as I am worshiped. I want to love, once, as I am loved!

He throws his head on the table and weeps. Mary comforts him, Bill looks about, truly embarrassed, Mae is weeping, too.

Gloria looks to Erich. Erich removes his monocle and polishes it, gives Gloria a contemptuous stare, and shakes his head firmly, mouthing, “No, no, no.”

Bill and Mary also, with regret, shake their heads, “No.” Gloria is stunned.

Dorothy kicks Noel under the table and hands him a note. It reads, “What is going on?” He quickly scribbles and returns to her a note reading, “God knows.” She returns one reading, “There ain’t no God.” He returns one reading, “Oh, dear.”

Franz appears by Gloria, with phone.

FRANZ: Madam —

GLORIA: I told you, no calls!

Franz retires.

VALENTINO: (rises and recovers himself) You will excuse me. I shall — if I may — go to your terrace and smoke a cigarette.

He bows formally and exits to the terrace. Gloria turns from looking after him to find everyone staring at her.

ERICH: (with a shrug) I am sorry, Gloria. A beautiful boy, to be sure, sure to be very popular, but – for what you want of him —

Bill and Mary also shrug. Noel and Dorothy are bewildered.

GLORIA: But you could do it. You of all people.

ERICH: He can project longing, obviously. I think love is beyond him.

GLORIA: (rises) Give me an hour. Give me half an hour. I will show you. This is meant to be. He is inadequate? I will make him adequate,

ERICH: Gloria!

GLORIA: (To Noel and Dorothy) You will excuse me? My home is yours. Make free.

Gloria exits to the terrace.

NOEL: I must say, that was intense. What shall we play now?

DOROTHY: (rising) Noel, you should really learn: “Never Never Land” is not a commandment.

Dorothy leaves the table and storms away, not to the terrace.

BILL: Poor Glory. She had her heart set on this.

MARY: They could make the movie, anyway.

ERICH: It does not suit their commercial images. The studio would not cooperate.

BILL: Things should oughta be different.

MARY: Bill, come show me some rope-tricks .

Bill and Mary exit, not to the terrace. Noel and Erich are left sitting alone at the table. Noel looks blankly about, then at Erich’s icy face.

NOEL: You can spare me, can’t you? I long to go examine the artifacts.

Noel rises and wanders away. Erich is left alone at the table, smoking, as servants begin to clear the dinner

things.

EXT. TERRACE – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Gloria stands on the terrace, looking about for Valentino. He is gone. On the terrace a still-smoking cigarette butt lies. She leans on the edge of the terrace, her face a mask of pain.

GLORIA’S POV

Valentino stands by the pool below, amidst a romantic arrangement of paper lanterns.

BACK TO TERRACE

Gloria smiles. The camera follows her to the pool.

GLORIA: Signore Valentino —

VALENTINO: Madam.

GLORIA: I hope that you are well.

VALENTINO: I have embarrassed you before your guests. I will go.

GLORIA: No, don’t. You mustn’t let the jocularity of my friends upset you. They want to be your friends, too.

VALENTINO: I am not – so good with friends’.

GLORIA: You don’t understand our American way of teasing. I was the same in your country.

VALENTINO: And so was I!

(They laugh together)

VALENTINO: I have never been one for the social life. I prefer to be doing something always.

GLORIA: Oh, I’ve been so thoughtless. Why don’t we swim? Let’s swim!

VALENTINO: Oh, that would be wonderful. But — your guests?

GLORIA: Everyone fends for himself here. Come, there are bathing suits in there.

VALENTINO: It would be lovely.

GLORIA: Then that’s what we’ll do. Come, what do they know? I understand you, perhaps, a little. I, too, if it would not be immodest of me to say so —

VALENTINO: Yes, please, speak.

GLORIA: I, too, have known something of what it is to feel worshiped, adored, idolized – if you can believe that.

VALENTINO: But all the world knows your beauty.

GLORIA: And yet to feel lonely, empty, uncompleted.

VALENTINO: Yes, of course you would know. You are not like the others.

GLORIA: Perhaps not. But I think, perhaps, I might, possibly, be, in some small ways, like you?

VALENTINO: Oh, you make my heart leap. To be understood.

GLORIA: To be understood. Yes, that would be everything.

VALENTINO: Oh, yes, come, let us swim. Let us be like two innocent children, forgetting all this, this —

GLORIA: Meaningless formality?

VALENTINO: Yes, come, let’s go. Where, where?

GLORIA: Here! Here! Follow me!

She takes his hand and they run like children to the bath-house.

INT. BAR – NIGHT – CONRINUOUS

Dorothy sits on a stool at a bar in a room decorated like a South Seas saloon, drinking. Noel appears at the door.

DOROTHY: Aloha.

NOEL: This is the seventeenth bar I’ve found in this historical exhibit. How many bars does it take to make a prison?

DOROTHY: One, if you work it right.

NOEL: May I come in and gather some local color? I’m writing a book called “Around the World by Tramp Steamer.”

DOROTHY: Come right in, Mister Steamer. May I call you “Tramp?”

NOEL: (Saunters in and takes a stool) All the better people do. ‘Well, the Austrian director is meditating in the Florentine ballroom. ‘The Man of the West is demonstrating rope tricks to America’s Sweetheart in a Japanese pavilion. The Merry Widow is having a nervous breakdown in the French gardens. And the god and goddess of love are romping in a Pompeian swimming pool. ‘What’s playing in the Honolulu Room?

DOROTHY: (Pours him a drink) Hamlet contemplates suicide.

NOEL: You’re very quiet.

DOROTHY: I’m not talking to myself, I’m mad at me.

{Toasts him) Hamlet toasts the ghost and downs the hatch.

NOEL: You’re all talk. How can they turn a book of yours into a film”?

DOROTHY: How does one turn anything into a film? By spreading it very, very thin.

NOEL: They do seem to squeak by without us, don’t they?

DOROTHY: In Hollywood, to coin a phrase, the word is out. They get paid for not talking — like blackmailers.

NOEL: I know I should resent that, but I can’t help thinking —

DOROTHY: That doesn’t pay any better than writing.

NOEL: —that there is a certain poetry in their shadow-shows. There are, after all, very few things that people actually do. We stand, sit, and lie, walk, run, and crawl —

DOROTHY: And drink more than is good for us, if we know what’s good for us.

NOEL: —and the silent cinema reduces all the complexities of life to those few rudimentary reflexes: Kiss, kill, coddle —

DOROTHY: Rape, pillage and foreclose.

NOEL: —and yet, even as we writers sink here in the West, I find I pity a generation brought up purely on pantomime. Those few things people do are so repetitious, so boring —

DOROTHY: . Raping and pillaging never pall.

NOEL: — and it is only the style of the great poets, Shakespeare, .Homer, Milton, Moses —

DOROTHY: Irving Berlin, God, I love that man!

NOEL: — that give poor little life any meaning at all. I weep not only for us as they bar us from Paradise, but for them in a world of gestures, without any meaning at all.

DOROTHY: Not that I don’t relish our growing closeness, but why aren’t they filming you in Britain?

NOEL: Only Americans can make movies. The British cannot distinguish between a film and a fog.

DOROTHY: Speaking of fogs, I told my producer that Hamlet had an Oedipus Complex. He said, “A boy is always smart to get into real estate.”

NOEL: I told mine he should do a film about Socrates, and he asked me, “What are Socrates?”

DOROTHY: So do you think the Princess from Pittsburgh will succeed in making Rudolph Vaselino?

NOEL: There’s no forecasting Americans in love. You celebrate Saint Valentine’s Day with a massacre.

DOROTHY: Love should be so simple. A loves B. B loves A. They roll around on each other and spell AB, BA, ABBA, BABA. But there are all those other letters waiting in line and the thing turns into alphabet soup. I envy the Babylonians. They didn’t have any vowels.

NOEL: How you do go on.

DOROTHY: Well, if you can be Peter Pan, I can be Wendy.

NOEL: What are we doing in this illiterate Eden?

DOROTHY: I’m trying to present a moving target to the little boy with the arrows. No, on the train coming out here I wrote a hateful movie about Broadway. On the train back, I’ll write a hateful play about Hollywood. It’s a living. Your turn.

NOEL: I’m running from bigger boys with bigger arrows. No, I wish to understand this curious beast, America, and Hollywood seems to be its heart.

DOROTHY: Or some part bloody and beating.

NOEL: If I could comprehend the film industry, I think I should have a grip on the U.S.A.

DOROTHY: Fate has sent me to you. It’s simple. The film industry consists of Jewish producers in California trying to convince Catholic bankers in New York that they know which fantasies will sell to Protestant farmers in Nebraska.

NOEL: The only great religion omitted is the Muslims.

DOROTHY They have something better.

NOEL: And what is that?

DOROTHY: Hashish.

NOEL: Gesundheit.

They toast one another and toss down another drink.

Ext. THE POOL – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Gloria and Valentino, in flattering swimwear, are lying breathless by the pool.

VALENTINO: That was wonderful. The world seems far away. As far as that moon.

GLORIA: Yes, we do seem truly to be the only man and woman in the world, don’t we?

VALENTINO No, the only two children.

GLORIA: Yes, I forgot.

VALENTINO Wouldn’t that be beautiful.

GLORIA: If we grew up, we could found a very good-looking new race.

VALENTINO: No, I would not wish on anyone the curse of beauty. We must stay children forever and never know the agony of love.

GLORIA: Would you really rather you had never known it?

VALENTINO: I never have known it. Only the reflection of it in other’s eyes, like something reflected backwards in a mirror.

GLORIA: I’ve never known it either.

VALENTINO: You? Surely you have had all the men in the world longing for you.

GLORIA: Isn’t it strange? You are the only one who could understand me, and you, too, would turn me into an image.

VALENTINO Oh, no, I am sorry.

GLORIA: To think I once wanted this, this prison, this isolation, this fame.

She weeps. He takes her tenderly in his arms.

VALENTINO: In my country, people are very poor. Often there is not enough to eat. When the children cry because their stomachs are empty, their mothers go to the riverbed and dig fresh, clean clay. They feed this clay to their children. There is no nourishment in it, but it fools the empty void within them and they sleep. This fame is like that. It feels like love, it looks like love, it fills for a moment the emptiness, but there is no nourishment in it, it is false, it is a lie, it is not love.

GLORIA: No it is not love. Somehow one knows it, though one has never known love.

VALENTINO: Yes, it feels like the love one dreams of, the love one sees others enjoying. But it is not. It is nothing. It is worse than nothing. It is heavy, it is worthless, and it is not even clean.

GLORIA: (slowly turning it into a speech of passion, embracing him gradually)
We have suffered so much, you and I. We have given so much to other people and received nothing in return. We understand one another so well, so very well. No one else could understand me, no one else could understand you. No one else could understand the terrible need we feel, no one else could ever satisfy it. Oh, my darling, why shouldn’t we give each other —

VALENTINO: (recoils from her embrace) Please, no.

GLORIA: Oh, don’t be afraid. I want you. I need you. I am yours.

VALENTINO: No, please, you have misunderstood.

GLORIA: I can give, I can show, I can bring that true love to you. I can bring that light of love into your eyes.

VALENTINO: I beg you, do not humiliate yourself.

GLORIA: For you I would risk any humiliation. I would do anything. Oh, let me worship you — Oh!

Too late, she realizes she has said the wrong thing.

VALENTINO: No! Not again! Everywhere I go! The same madness! The same longing! The same evil mystery! No! No! No!

He flees, grabbing his clothes and runs up the stairs to the terrace and into the house.

GLORIA: (simultaneously) No, please, I need you, I must have you, you don’t understand, what have I done, stay, please, please, please!

She weeps by the pool, hysterical.

INT. BALLROOM – NIGHT _ CONTINUOUS

The orchestra is playing desultorily. Mae lies on the piano. From Erich’s point of view at the table we see Valentino, clutching his clothes, run in from the terrace. He pauses, breathless, embarrassed, sobbing. Erich with his cigarette holder indicates a washroom. FOLLOW Valentino as he runs into the washroom and slams the door.

Mae tremblingly follows Valentino. Now Gloria enters in bathing costume, trailing her towel, gives Erich the glance of death. Follow her to her bedroom which she enters and slams the door. Erich shakes his head sadly, The MUSIC dies.

EXT, A PAGODA – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Bill is demonstrating rope tricks for Mary. They hear the slamming doors and go into the

INT. BALLROOM – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

just as Dorothy and Noel, also intrigued, emerge from another entrance.

Bill, Mary, Noel, and Dorothy look back and forth to each other for explanations. None is forthcoming. They all look to Erich. He shrugs monumentally.

INT. GLORIA’S BEDROOM – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Gloria in a frantic fit throws off her bathing costume and in a flashing MONTAGE of slamming drawers and flying fabric dons a stunning hostess gown and a turban to cover her wet hair. She looks like an angry, shimmering priestess.

INTERCUT WITH:

Mae bangs feebly on the door of the washroom Valentino entered. There is no response and she slides sobbing to the floor, leaning against the door.

INTERCUT WITH

IN THE WASHROOM Valentino in the washroom kneels before the sink, sobbing.

GLORIA’S BEDROOM Gloria, magnificently redressed, stares at herself in a full-length mirror, turns, flings open her bedroom door.

END INTERCUT.

CAMERA TRACKS with Gloria as she strides into

INT. BALLROOM – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

GLORIA: Forgive me. I’m afraid I’ve neglected my guests.

The orchestra suddenly PLAYS again.

Gloria whisks champagne from a passing tray.

Erich smiles.

Franz approaches Gloria.

FRANZ: Madame.

GLORIA: I said no calls and I meant it. No. Wait. Yes. Why not. I’ll take the call.

FRANZ: It is not a call, Madame, but callers. Madam has other guests.

GLORIA: What other guests?

FRANZ: It is miss Pola Negri, Madame, and a friend.

GLORIA: She?

MARY: (shocked and pleased) Pola!

BILL: (to Gloria) Thought you two was feudin’.

GLORIA: (striding away) I can’t believe this!

Erich laughs

INT. WASHROOM DOOR – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Mae kneeling against the door of the washroom Valentino entered. We HEAR HIS SOBBING within.

MAE: Oh, no, no, no, don’ t.

She wanders off with her hands over her ears into

INT. BALLROOM – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Mae enters, hands on her ears, and hides among the fronds..

INT. ENTRANCE HALL – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Simultaneously, Gloria stalks into the corridor at the foot of the stairway, followed by Bill and Mary, and, a bit behind, Noel and Dorothy.

DOROTHY: What on Earth is wrong with these people?

NOEL: (dragging her with him) We are being filmed for psychiatric research.

From Gloria’s POV WE SEE POLA descending the stairs. She is perhaps older, less coldly beautiful than Gloria. She is the image of a passionate Gypsy, a truly frightening apparition who would look foolish were she less arrogant and regal. A figure walks behind her, concealed.

From Pola’s POV WE SEE Gloria at the foot of the stairs, coldly angry. Cutting back and forth we sense a collision coming.

Bill and Mary join Gloria at the foot of the stairs. Pola continues to descend. Noel and Dorothy hang back.

INT. WASHROOM – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Valentino raises his face from the basin and stares at his image in the mirror. Extreme, dazzling close-up of his face. He kisses his image passionately.

INT. ENTRANCE HALL – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Pola reaches the foot of the stairs, her companion still concealed behind her. Quick close-ups of Gloria’s face, Pola’s face. Both open their mouths to speak.

Erich steps in front of Gloria.

ERICH: Pola! Surely the world is moaning in sorrow when all its gods have deserted it to gather here!

He kisses her hand. Gloria’s face freezes. Erich smiles at her.

GLORIA: Pola. Darling.

She steps forward to take Pola’s hand. Bill and Mary visibly relax.

GLORIA: How wonderful to see you.

Gloria glances back and sees the servants carrying away the dinner table. She glances at Erich, who smiles enigmatically. She glances at Franz, who nods toward the washroom door.

GLORIA: Won’t you come into the Great Hall and have champagne with us? I fear our little — celebration has ended–is over.

Erich raises an eyebrow. Franz steps to the entrance of the ballroom, beckoning Pola in.

INT. BALLROOM – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Mae sees Franz in doorway, and flees out onto—

EXT. TERRACE – NIGHT – CONTINUOU*S

Mae, on the terrace, meets a wind. Her feathers tremble in the breeze.

INT. ENTRANCE HALL – BIGHT – CONT(INUOUS

GLORIA: We shall drink to memories and — (a nervous glance at the washroom door)
— to what might have been.

EXT. TERRACE – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Mae on the terrace, looks out at the jungle below, back at the ballroom.

POV MAE

Mae SEES Franz entering the ballroom, looking for her.

Mae flees down the terrace stairs, past the pool, into the jungle.

Franz comes out onto the terrace, looks down. Servants come behind him.

FRANZ: Follow her. See that she doesn’t harm herself.

Servants follow Mae.

INT. ENTRANCE HALL – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

GLORIA: Won’t you come?

Pola stands resolute and enigmatic on the stairs, above the increasingly irritated Gloria, her companion still hidden.

DOROTHY: She looks like a Gypsy.

NOEL: Want your palm read?

DOROTHY: If I wanted my palm red, I’d run it through her hair.

EXT. THE GROUNDS – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Outside, Mae wanders through the underbrush, like a strange, stalking moonlit bird.

INT- ENTRANCE HALL – NIGHT _ CONTINUOUS*

GLORIA: I hope I do not seem inhospitable, but you see —

Gloria glances at the washroom door, ignoring Erich’s sly smirk.

GLORIA: — one of my guests has become somewhat indisposed, and —

The washroom door opens and Valentino emerges, flawless and in complete control of himself.

VALENTINO: Not at all, Madame. I regret to have caused you concern. I am so pleased on an already memorable evening to encounter yet another compatriot of such distinction.

POLA: Signore Valentino. Hmmm. I have done better work than I knew.

This puzzling remark causes some blinks in the party.
POLA: It is marvelous that you are here. For I have someone with me who longs to know you. Mesdames and Messieurs, allow me to introduce my protégé, —

Pola steps aside to reveal RAMON, a startling clone of Valentino.

POLA: — Ramon Navarro —

Startled GASPS from the party,

POLA: — recently signed by the studio, under my protection.

Pola gloats. Gloria gapes. Erich suppresses laughter. Bill and Mary are awestruck.

Valentino stands staring. Ramon stands a step above Pola, shyly smiling. Valentino steps forward. He ascends past Gloria to stand a step below Ramon. Ramon and Valentino gaze at one another. Pola smiles.

VALENTINO: Signore Navarro. It is so good to meet you.

RAMON: It is an honor I could not have hoped for.

VALENTINO: They taught you to speak like that at the studio.

RAMON Pola Negri taught me.

VALENTINO: And very’ well, very well. But you need not concern yourself with correctness here. We are all equals, all friends here. Please speak as you feel.

RAMON: Well, golly, if I was going to do that, I’d just be tongue-tied. In all my wildest dreams I never dared to dream that I’d ever actually meet you.

VALENTINO Is that true?

RAMON: Well, no. No, in my wildest dreams that’s just what I did dream.

VALENTINO: You see how easy it is? Once one realizes one can speak? How easy it is to say just what one feels?

During this exchange between Ramon and Valentino, the “monocle” or “ERICH SEES:” effect slowly slides into place, and WE SEE the two young men in black-and-white, superbly-lit, clearly a meeting of lovers, with all the romance and mythological passion that one could hope for.

RAMON: But just a few months ago, I was running a gas-pump.

VALENTINO: I was a gardener once.

RAMON: I delivered packages.

VALENTINO: I was a carpenter.

RAMON: I — entertained at parties.

VALENTINO: I was a gigolo.

RAMON: Like in the song?

VALENTINO: Like in the song. We have so much in common. So much to tell each other.

Valentino takes Ramon’s hand and begins to lead him away. The party clears for them. Without the least self-consciousness, utterly easily and naturally, Valentino and Ramon stroll away, into the ballroom, then —

FOLLOW VALENTINO AND RAMON

–through the ballroom, out onto the terrace, down the stairs, and into the moonlit night, still chatting.

INT. ENTRANCE HALL – NIGHT -CONTINUOUS

Gloria turns on Pola.

GLORIA: You fiend! Why have you done ‘this?

POLA: Done what? What have I done? I have introduced another star into the firmament. This is an act of merit, to be admired. What star is so unselfish? Where is my champagne?

She reaches over the banister and champagne appears from a servant.

GLORIA: You abuse all the privileges of a guest. You flout the precepts of our profession. You are an abomination.

POLA: To so berate a guest. If there were members of the press here, what a raw headline.

GLORIA: You expect me to exercise good taste in the face of your offense? What do you want here?

POLA: Want? Respect. Companionship. Relaxation. Admiration. Perhaps congratulations for my good fortune.

GLORIA: What good fortune?

POLA: Why, Gloria, I am to have a dream come true. One of those girlish dreams we shared when we were Bathing Beauties.

GLORIA: What dream? Which dream?

POLA Our greatest dream, Gloria.

GLORIA: Camille.

POLA: Camille.

GLORIA: You wouldn’t. You couldn’t.

DOROTHY (to Noel) I’m going bats.

NOEL It does you credit.
POLA: We confuse and bewilder our friends.

ERICH: Your friends know all your dreams, Pola.

GLORIA: Everyone here knows our dreams, and that my dreams are greater than yours You cannot do this thing.

POLA: Either of us can do it, Gloria. And it will be me.

GLORIA: It will not.

POLA: It will! I start tomorrow! Everything is prepared And I have my leading man!

Gloria starts forward, murder in her eyes.

MARY: Don’t!

ERICH: Stop!

Gloria freezes.

ERICH: Is this war in Heaven, Gloria? Is this what the world will imitate?

Gloria stands, a statue of icy rage.

EXT. THE GROUNDS – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Mae wanders through the brush into —— a lonely greenhouse. Servants attend her. They hold up potted plants, plucking petals from flowers. Then they hold up withered young plants. Mae stares, dazed, then flees into the forest.

Servants follow her.

INT. ENTRANCE HALLWAY – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

At the staircase, Gloria still stands. Then she relaxes. There is now a calm certainty in her manner.

GLORIA: You will not do this thing, Pola, because you cannot. You will not make “Camille.”

Pola drops her jaw in surprise.

GLORIA: When she is portrayed, I will portray her, and not you. We were ruthless girls, but we dreamed of becoming something better And we almost succeeded And that “almost” became imprinted on your face, and you became the greatest tragic player of the screen. Your failure was your success, while I — ? I learned to hide my failure and became the image of success. That success was my failure. But in our hearts we held the dream of those two savage, animal girls: the dream of portraying the dream, the slut who becomes a saint. But, Pola, what we wanted was not only to portray it, but to make it true. You know that you could not bear to see it falsely done. Look at our faces. Which do you want to see up there shining in the dark as the savior? Your true tragic face that cannot tell a lie? Or my perfect false face that is capable of anything?

ERICH SEES GLORIA’S FACE

quite perfect, quite alive, seen through the monocle, exquisite, inspiring, and

POLA’S FACE

angry, honest, exotic, seen through the monocle, expressive, enthralling, but no “Camille.”

WIDER

Their real faces, side by side, tears coming down Pola’s now.

GLORIA: Anything, I tell you! Anything!

EXT. THE GROUNDS – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

On the grounds, Mae staggers out of the undergrowth past statues of strange gods, statues much like Gloria. Mae comes to the glowing pool. She looks at everything blankly, bewildered, like some animal coming into a strange civilization, followed by attentive servants. With no special emphasis, her gaze drifts across —

— Ramon and Valentino by the pool, entwined and spent with love.

She vaguely ascends toward the house, followed by servants

INT. ENTRANCE HALL – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Pola is sitting on the stair now, her face awash with tears. She allows Mary to dry her eyes.

POLA: Oh, take it. No one but you could have known what stones to move to uncover my poor heart. You, you have no heart><t^_

GLORIA: At least no one knows how to uncover it. Least of all I.

Gloria sits beside Pola.

GLORIA: But, Pola, dear and only friend. You have no reason to be sad. You have not failed, darling; you have become the goddess of failure.

Pola is looking at Gloria. Pola’s face becomes ennobled.

Gloria walks down the stairs through the aghast Bill and Mary to take Erich’s arm.

GLORIA: Now come, dear friends, come all of us and let me at last make my great announcement.

INT. BALLROOM – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

All enter and the music is sheer celestial triumph. Servants distribute wine to all, including the Band.

Mae enters from the terrace and is swept up in the revelry.

Gloria laughs and toasts with each guest in turn, even descends from the balcony to clink glasses with the band. She is merry, dances a little jig, picks up a feather fan and parades.

From her POV we see the astonished guests and the worried Franz on the balcony. She dances.

From her POV we see a tuxedoed FIGURE approaching from the pool. She laughs and begins her announcement,

GLORIA: Ladies and Gentlemen. Deities and mortals Olympians and others! Hear me. I have tonight the direst announcement to make! There is forthcoming, out of the womb of time, out of the awesome immensities of space, out of the charred ruins of human history, there is forthcoming the greatest masterwork, the finest achievement, the most majestic message, the new testament I will undertake the greatest role, under the aegis of the only director —

Erich is distraught. He shakes his head, “No.” Bill and Mary are worried. Pola is mesmerized.

GLORIA: — but, alas, I will not play it yet. For the womb of time has
not quite kept its promise. It will come, but it has not come yet. I must freeze my face forever, in hopes that time will deliver at last Armand. And in the meantime, I must beg forgiveness with all humility of one whom I have treated wretchedly –

Pola looks up, expecting that she is the one Gloria speaks of. But Gloria is looking out through the terrace window, where there approaches a silhouetted, slim, tuxedoed figure.

GLORIA: Before you all, I beg his forgiveness for having placed too heavy a burden on the mortal shoulders of –

She grasps the arm of the entering tuxedoed figure

GLORIA: — the luminescent Rudolph Valentino.

RAMON: Madam. Forgive me. I am the other one.

VALENTINO: (entering) Oh, no, Ramon. We are one. We must be one. We are forever one.

Gloria is thunderstruck as she observes Valentino and Ramon gazing at one another as at a mirror,

CLOSE ON

Erich, struck as if by lightening.

CLOSE ON

Valentino, his face transfigured by love.

ERICH: Valentino.

Valentino starts to turn to Erich.

ERICH: No! Do not look at me. Look at Ramon. Hold that expression on your face and — Ramon, step away. Gloria, approach him.

They do as Erich says, Gloria replaces Ramon. Gloria and Valentino face each other. Erich slips the monocle into place.

ERICH SEES: the most beautiful human faces possible, in black-and-white, gazing at one another with his undiluted love, Gloria’s tragic triumph. They are Camilla and Armand.

ERICH: Yes. Yes. Yes, Gloria. It is possible It is inevitable

A strange madness seizes everyone. The music swells, the guests toast and laugh and embrace and dance, even Pola is swept up in the inexplicable glee.

Gloria and Valentino parade, shaking hands, even the hands of the Servants.

ERICH SEES: Camille and Armand in their happiness.

GLORIA: (to Pola) You have your revenge, dear sister. I shall have only the dream, not the reality. Heaven is Hell. I shall play Camille and the world will be saved. But I will not be victorious. I will only be — forever — the goddess of Victory.

ON GLORIA: All her twisted emotions cross her face and she fights down each one until she presents the radiant perfect visage of a goddess in anyone’s terms.

ERICH: Gloria, it is possible.

Gloria’s face. It could just be possible that our picture is over as she grows, if anything, yet more radiant and benign.

ERICH: It is possible. Everything you have predicted for the world is possible. It is even possible that you are not mad.

Gloria falls upon Erich’s bosom, a child in the arms of her father.

The doorbell RINGS. All faces look about, shocked from their magic spell. Franz leaves the room.

Mary and Bill, then Mae, come to congratulate Gloria. Ramon joins them. It looks very like a wedding party.

Noel and Dorothy hang out in a corner, understandably perplexed.

Franz appears in the doorway.

FRANZ: Madame. The head of the studio.

Shock and consternation.

ANGLE ON

JACK, dignified, paternal, in a business suit, enters. He is followed by a CHAUFFEUR and SERVANTS carrying equipment.

Even as Gloria and her party rush forth to greet Jack, the Chauffeur is shoving past Franz to set up this equipment, directing the dispersal of the potted palms and the band and arranging chairs for the party and Jack to watch a film.

GLORIA: Jack! Jack! What an unqualified blessing To have you here. Oh, here, wine for our father!

Jack shoves aside wine offered by Servants.

GLORIA: Come, sit down! A throne for our lord and master.

Jack ignores the offered throne.

GLORIA: Jack, I don’t believe you know Dorothy and Noel.

NOEL: Court jesters.

DOROTHY: Wo one courts jesters.

JACK Writers, are you?

GLORIA: Jack, I — we — have been making a present for you. The most wonderful present you have ever been offered. Oh, I don’t know which of us should tell you.

JACK: Good evening, children. Gloria, I phoned several times. I took the liberty of corning over because I have something of the utmost importance to tell you all. Erich, Mae, Bill, Mary, Rudy, Ramon, Pola, this will affect all of you.

GLORIA: You’ve something for us? This is a conjunction of wonders. Shall we draw lots to see who gives their present first?

As Gloria prattles, quick intercutting between Jack’s stern, no-nonsense face and, variously, Erich, beginning to realize something is up. Bill and Mary growing worried, Mae sensing tension and starting to tremble, Ramon and Valentino drawing close together like birds in a storm, Pola smiling wryly.

At last, Gloria runs up against Franz, who looks like a mask of severe tragedy. She follows his gaze to Jack’s face.

JACK: All right, I don’t want to divert your party for long. Hans, are we ready?

The chauffeur, Hans, signals, “yes.”

JACK: All right, then, if you’ll be so polite as to take your seats, we’ll begin.

All sit, worriedly. At a signal from Hans, lights dim.

Out of the darkness comes a picture on the screen, and

SOUND

A sequence from “The Jazz Singer” — Jolson singing “Mammy” or “Sonny Boy.” The sequence ends with Jolson saying, “You ain’t’ heard nothin’ yet.”

Throughout the screening, close-ups of the members of the party as they react to this bizarre event.

As lights come up and the film ends, the party members sit like stunned animals. Under Hans’ directions, Servants dismantle and remove the film equipment.

JACK: I see sound has left you speechless. Tremendous, isn’t it? It’s grossing millions nationwide. This will revolutionize the film industry. I want everyone in my office tomorrow. We have to talk. Oh, and Erich. I’ve called your company. All current productions are suspended. We have to talk about “The Merry Widow.”

Unnoticed by the preoccupied people around her, Mae stands, trembling.

JACK: (To Noel and Dorothy) You writers. Have your agents call me. We should talk. Now I want you’ all to get some sleep tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow. We have to talk.

His words echo on the soundtrack as he exits, “We have to talk, we have to talk, we have to talk,” over close-ups of Bill, Mary, Rudolph, Ramon, Pola, Erich, finally of Mae;, her pretty-doll features distort into a hideous, repeated silent scream. There is a rumble of earthquake which grows out of the echo of Jack’s words. Mae staggers up out of her chair and goes to the terrace, unnoticed by the quiet, brooding party.

EXT. TERRACE – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Mae runs back and forth as if pursued. She climbs up on the balustrade. From below, WE SEE Mae leap from the balustrade. She falls into us, a silently-screaming suicidal bird. Throughout Mae’s suicide sequence, all normal sounds should continue.

INT. BALLROOM – NIGHT _ CONTINUOUS

Inside, the Musicians are packing their instruments, Servants are folding their chairs. Jack is glimpsed exiting. WE HEAR his car start and leave.

Franz is the first to move. He raises his hand to signal to the Band to play.

Gloria raises her hand to give a negative wave. The Band freezes, then continues packing.

The guests depart. They greet Gloria one by one, if “greet” is quite the word for their stunned, silent confrontations. Franz hands them their wraps.

Erich is the last to go. He pauses as if remembering that he had something with him, then shrugs and starts up the stairs. Franz is left with Mae’s wrap.

The parade of guests out of the Great Hall and up first the interior and then the exterior stairs should resemble the slow death march of the dinosaurs in Disney’s “Fantasia.”

Except for the faces of Noel and Dorothy, which beam. They are the last to come to Gloria.

NOEL: (kissing Gloria’s hand) Goodnight, dear lady. I enjoyed it more than I can say.

DOROTHY: Words fail us.

Dorothy and Noel rush to catch the departing crowd, Noel with a chummy wave at the pianist.

Gloria sits alone. Franz, carrying Mae’s wrap, wanders about looking for her. He exits to the terrace.

EXT. TERRACE – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

On the terrace, he looks down.

POV FRANZ

Mae, floating in the pool, a drowned bird.

INT. BALLROOM – NIGHT – CONTNUOUS

Franz rushes through the ballroom, Mae’s cloak flying behind him.

Gloria raises her head. The Band is quietly packing instruments, peeling off their masks. They quietly disappear one by one. Franz re-enters, running, followed by Servants, heading for the terrace. Gloria wanders to the terrace.

EXT. TERRACE – NIGHT _ CONTINUOUS

On the terrace, Gloria observes Servants fishing Mae from the water. Police sirens are heard, drawing near.

GLORIA’S FACE a Sphinx’s mask. WIDER

Franz appears beside her and turns her gently from the spectacle below.

FRANZ Madame?

GLORIA: Everything was quite perfect, Franz?

FRANZ Quite perfect. Madame.

GLORIA: Everything was perfect. Everything was possible.

FRANZ Instructions for tomorrow. Madam?

GLORIA: Tomorrow? Tomorrow the world will start to fall apart, all possibility of peace destroyed. Language, which can lie, will again become the coin of the realm. A thousand different languages. A thousand different lies.

Gloria looks up.

GLORIA: A thousand ancient stars. A million billion more years like the billion years before. We had our chance. We failed. The tower of truth will fall before a filthy flood of sound.

Gloria leaves the terrace.

Franz closes the terrace doors behind her, and descends to the pool.

EXT. NIGHT – THE MANSION – CONTINUOUS

The moon is behind the mansion now. It is black except for lights within the house. Servants carry Mae’s body up the steps to the terrace. Lights go out on the second floor, the third. Curtains close from floor to floor. At the last lit window, the bedroom window in a tower, Gloria is seen briefly. She closes the curtains. The bedroom light goes out.

The stars move on.

FADE OUT.

screenplay SLAY IT AGAIN, PAM by Robert Patrick Part 2 of 2

CLOSE ON:
Pam, glancing futilely up the steps for help. She gets an idea.
PAM: Will you? Oh, God, please, I hate her gargly old guts. I’ll just go away and let you do it and I’ll never have to hear her complain again!
She turns and starts away.
BIKER: (Flinging Grandmother aside) Hey, bitch!
PAM turns and directs the spray of the hairspray at him,
simultaneously igniting it with Grandmother’s lighter.
PAM: Fakeout!
The Biker screams and falls back, his entire head a ball of raging flame. He screams. Grandmother screams. Pam checks her calculator for time. Biker falls backwards into garbage bin, thrashing and howling for the longest time, and at last subsides. No human being could survive such an experience.
Grandmother is still screaming.
PAM: Grandmother!
Pam jams a cigarette in Grandmother’s mouth and lights it. Grandmother quiets down, sucking on cigarette.
PAM: Jeeze, what a mess!
She shoves the Biker all the way into the garbage bin, covers him with Hefty bags.
PAM: Trash to trash. (She checks time again) I’m late on deliveries. Gotta get going!
She runs upstairs, Grandmother following with difficulty. INT. PAM’S HOUSE-LIVING ROOM-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Doc is dragging Father into the house, still strapped to table. Sister is already in living—room with kids, fanning away smoke. Brother is still kneeling, salaaming
SISTER: That does it. No more smoking in the house, Grandmother!
BROTHER: I had great signs from the gods!
DOC: Set it up on the sofa!
Pam enters from basement steps.
PAM: Oh, hi, folks. Behind schedule. There’s cold chicken in the icebox.
She takes out Mary Joanne’s mirror and sees that she is a mess.
The smoke is clearing. Biker’s bike appears, clearly having driven through a wall.
SISTER: What’s that?
BROTHER: (Shaking his candle) I got the wrong candle!
Pam is checking herself out in Mary Joanne’s mirror, washing the top layer of
filth off with heliotrope Handi-Wipes. Smoke is clearing, Doc is plugging-in the table, Sister is turning on the TV, Brother is kicking the bike, and Grandmother appears at the head of the basement stairs. Dogs bark. Babies cry.
GRANDMOTHER: What in the world is going on?
PAM: (Packing up) I’ll explain later. Folks, don’t listen to anything Grandma says. She had a spell. And, father—
CLOSE ON:
Father, his eyes swimming like goldfish, strapped to the table on the sofa as Doc plugs wires in.
PAM: Don’t bother to take out the trash. I’ll explain later. Everything’s just fine now. ‘Bye.
Pam exits, bumping into Mother, who enters with box of donuts.
MOTHER: What’s all this?
FATHER: Take out the trash. Take out the trash. Take out the trash.
SISTER: Hush! It’s General Hospital!
EXT. PAM’S HOUSE-DAY-CONTINUOUS
The house is belching smoke. Fire engines are pulling up. Pam, oblivious to the madness, is running to get into her truck. Pam is still yelling to her family:
PAM: Don’t worry! Everything’s fine!
She drives away as more firetrucks arrive, disgorging firemen with hatchets as we:
FADE OUT
FADE IN
EXT. WOMEN’S CLUB-NIGHT
Establishing shot. A dignified building with delicate vines and flowers, a sign, “Landfill Women’s Club,” windows aglow.
PULL BACK TO REVEAL:
Barbed wire fence around Women’s Club. INT. WOMEN’S CLUB-NIGHT-CONTINUOUS
A large room with a small stage at one end. Pam’s Rosy Glow Sales Achievements Awards program is in full gear. Her dealers and their husbands, a wild salad of races, sit at long tables over-elaborately festooned with floral arrangements. They sit only along the backside of each table, theoretically so they can all face the stage. However, the flowers are so tall that people have to stand up or spread them aside to see the awards ceremony.
Many awards have already been given, and the Saleswomen winners are on stage in elaborate “award” gear. Their Husbands sit alone.
One table is entirely occupied by Mary Joanne and the Ladies from her Rosy Glow party; they are the Floral Society.
In general, the Husbands are slumped, bored, sleeping,
reading papers. The Wives are elaborately coifed and dressed
in the extremes of suburban fashion, i.e., wide shoulders,
enormous hair.
Onstage, amidst a dazzling gaudy array of golden trophy cups, flashing heliotrope “diamond” tiaras, gaudy satin sashes, fluorescent heliotrope capes with high ermine collars, and boldly bejeweled scepters, Pam, in her heliotrope snood and smock, is finishing the complimentary facials on two shower-capped, seated figures swathed in sheets, their faces concealed under heliotrope mud.
Behind her stand the saleswomen of all races already “awarded,” each standing smiling in full regalia. There are clearly an awful lot of awards yet to be given. Kevin, in heliotrope tuxedo with ruffled front, stands by ready to help, a kind of male Vanna White.
PAM: (Finishes slathering mud on seated figures) Now, we’ll just let that stuff harden and in a moment we’ll all see what a Rosy Glow facial can do. While we wait we’ll give out a few more Sales Achievement Awards.
All the Women in the audience except the Floral Society stand, ready to rush up and be “awarded.” All the Husbands stand, too, Polaroid cameras in hands.
PAM: But first –
All the Women sit. Each reaches up a hand to pull her Husband down.
PAM: Let’s hear it for Mary Joanne and the Floral Society-Mary Joanne and Floral Society stand.
PAM: — who provided all the flowers, which you can see again tomorrow at the County Fair.
Polite to not-so-polite applause. The Floral Society sits.
PAM: (Reading from her heliotrope calculator) All right. The fifty—sixth place Outstanding Sales Achievement Award goes to Hyung Song Wong Macintosh from Dust Bowl!
A FEMALE PIANIST plays and sings “I May Be Wrong But I Think You’re Wonderful” as HYUNS, a tiny Korean woman, waves from behind a floral arrangement and emerges to walk down the aisle, tearful and grateful, to where Kevin waits with tiara, sash, cape, trophy, and scepter. Her huge husband, Mister MACINTOSH follows taking flash Polaroid photos of every step of the way, many of which fall randomly to the floor. We see that the floor is littered with them from earlier winners.
Pam decks the winner as fast as possible. HYUNS stands close to Kevin to have her picture taken, then Pam signals PIANIST to “cut,” and shoves Hyung center stage in front of mudfaced figures to speak.
HYUNG: Sank you. I am so grateful I can hardly speak.
The Husbands applaud enthusiastically. Macintosh shushes tnem.
HYUNG: But I must thank —
Applause stops short.
HYUNG: – all of my relatives in Korea: Hyung Dan, Hyung Foo, Hyung Raw, Hyung Fo-Mo, Hyung Dish –
Pam sighs. CROSS FADE TO:
SAME-LATER
HYUNG and several Other Saleswomen have now been “awarded.” Another SALESWOMAN, black, is standing by Kevin in full regalia doing her speech as her Husband snaps Polaroids.
SALESWOMAN: — and my “thank you’s” would not be complete
without listing the many customers who have helped me be the winner of the thirty-ninth place Sales Achievement Awards.
She holds up long list.
PAM: (Steps forward applauding, cuing Pianist) Beautiful, Leticia, beautiful. (Pam signals Kevin, who leads Leticia to stage) And now let’s see what a Rosy Glow facial can do! (She moves to seated masked figures) But first, isn’t there anyone here who is not a Rosy Glow dealer —
Husbands and Floral Society stand.
PAM: — who would like to sign up before midnight
tomorrow night?
Husbands and Floral Society sit.
PAM: Okay. Let’s unveil our beauties.
She rips both mud masks off with one gesture, revealing the Gay Guy and his Lover (of another race). Both of their faces gleam. Pam whips away their shower caps and sheets. Kevin hands them mirrors. They are wildly pleased.
PAM: See what happiness Rosy Glow brings? And we all know what money it brings. Isn’t there anyone here who would like to deal?
Gay Guy raises his hand excitedly. His Lover slaps the hand down and drags Gay Guy away. Gay Guy shrugs apologetically to Pam as they go back to a table.
PAM: (Sighs) Okay, on with the program. Now, Mori lla Susskind will sing another selection.
The entire audience visibly slumps. Morilla, the Pianist, begins to play and sing. Her Husband runs from the back of the room and takes Polaroids of her.
PAM: (To Kevin) I’m exhausted and disappointed and depressed and frustrated.
KEVIN: Well, you’ve had a killer day.
PAM: You don’t know the half of it. (Her cellular phone rings) Excuse me.
(Into phone) Hello? Yuniyoshi?
INT. PAM’S HOME-NIGHT-CONTINUOUS
The house has been chopped to pieces by firemen. Mother sits at table in ruins of kitchen, dealing. Grandmother is trying to negotiate the ruins with her walker. Sister, strewn with kids, is carrying her TV around looking for a plug. Doc is carrying the cord of the torture-table around for the same reason.
FATHER: (On phone to Pam) I finally found the phone.
During this conversation, we CUT BACK AND FORTH to Father at “home” and Pam at the Women’s Club as they talk.
PAM: Father! It costs me money for you to call me on this phone. What do you want?
FATHER; They let me off the torture table while they hunt for the electrical outlets —
CUT TO:
Sister and Doc prowling ruins.
DOC: Here’s an outlet!
SISTER: No, we have to find two, because I want to watch Lifestyles of the Bitchin’ Famous while you electroshock Father!
FATHER: — so I went down to take out the trash like you
said-
PAM: — Oh, no —
FATHER: — and I called to tell you I couldn’t because the Hefty Bags were broken and trash was all over the place.
PAM: Ohhhhh, noooooo.
She drops phone and looks around in terrified anticipation. Morilla keeps singing. Phone is on and blinking.
We see CLOSE—UP of eavesdropper, blinking and on, Morilla’s singing issuing from it. We can tell by shadows flickering on it that it is on a fast—moving vehicle.
FATHER: — so I called you there at the Women’s Club to tell you that I tried to be good and take the trash out, so please tell Sister and your Uncle Doc not to torture me no more —
From Pam’s POV we see the auditorium. There are spotlights in her eyes, so it’s hard to see clearly. At the rear of the hall are two great doors. These suddenly fly open and – admit Yuniyoshi and her Husband. She is in the same outrageous fashions favored by the other Women, he is handcuffed and she literally pulls him into the room.
YUNIYOSHI: Oh, look how pretty all the awarded womens are. Yoo hoo, yoo hoo, Pam, I want to sign, I want to be a Rosy Glow woman and look pretty! This what I come to America for!
She comes running down the aisle. Pam expresses tremendous relief. Then her face freezes.
We hear a motorcycle near and coming nearer. Kevin, who has no idea what Pam is so afraid of, tries to comfort her.
Pam’s POV: Silhouette as bike with huge rider bursts through double doors and down aisle. It catches Yuniyoshi and her Husband on handlebars, further hiding the rider, and seems headed to crash into Pam—
—but suddenly stops and spins at the foot of the stage, sending Yuniyoshi and Husband flying through the air to land on Morilla.
The rider is Brother!
BROTHER: Pam, look what the gods sent to me. I got a prize, too!
PAM: (At last enraged) You scum-spined, brain-damaged, vomit-licking, overblown, bloated, stupid, dippy, creepy, bone-worthless idiot, you just about scared me half to death!
She is about to beat him into a pulp, when suddenly —
— the back wall of the stage shatters and a firetruck crashes through to an ear-splitting halt. It is draped with dead firemen and driven by Biker. He is now bald, bloody, and blistered from the fire-treatment, and has fast-food wrappers on the ends of his sofa springs and so looms even huger and more bizarre.
Amidst the screams of the fleeing award—winners and audience, he flings himself through the air at Pam, knocking her onto the still—running motorcycle and against Brother, who involuntarily guns the thing and goes careening through the room. Kevin is left alone and helpless.
With a cry of anger, Biker hops onto the still-running fire engine and pursues Pam and Brother through the hall. Husbands are rushing everywhere to take Polaroids. Wives are screaming and trying to drag Husbands away. The Floral Society hides under or on its table each time the bike or the truck pass, then desperately try to gather surviving arrangements. Yuniyoshi literally drags her Husband away, screaming,
YUNIYOSHI: No, no, no, never, I never join that club!
At last Brother gets the bike through the double door. Biker wheels around and follows him.
CLOSE ON: Biker on truck, screaming. CLOSE ON: Kevin.
KEVIN: So that’s the kind of guy Pam likes.
As the husbands cluster for a last set of Polaroid shots of the fleeing vehicles, we cut to:
EXT. THE TOWN STREETS-NIGHT-CONTINUOUS
With Brother hardly able to steer straight while Pam, her cases flying, clings to him, and Biker in no mood to follow any rules as he follows in the firstruck with all sirens and lights going, the ensuing chase through Landfill and environs can be as calamitous as the budget allows. It eventually leaves the city and winds up on —
EXT. AN IRRIGATION CANAL-NIGHT-CONTINUOUS
— the narrow service road along the winding banks of an
irrigation canal. Near a sluice gate, Brother loses control
and he, the bike, and Pam all go into the drink.
CLOSE ON:
Pam, kept afloat by her cases, spinning in the foam, fighting her way to something solid.
PAM: Brother! Help me! Brother! Brother!
A hand grabs her hand, and helps her up onto the bank by one mighty jerk of the arm of —
— Biker!
PAM: Oh, brother!
He flings her down. Against the almost full moon, in the flashing light of the fire—truck, from Pam’s POV, we see him raising his knife.
PAM: No! Here! Take it!
She shoves a case forward.
He drops the knife and reaches for it. Pam flips the case open and he thrusts his arms into it.
He screams bloody murder and raises his arms, glittering with the sharp-pointed tiaras the case held, many of which are stuck in his arms.
Pam grabs more tiaras and stabs them into him until he is like a glittering dinosaur. He backs away from the excruciating onslaught and at last falls down into the canal just as —
— the sluice gate opens and an especially powerful wall of water pours through to sweep him away forever in its driving depths. No human being could survive such an experience.
Pam collapses on the embankment, laughing from hysteria. She sits up and puts a tiara on her head.
PAM: Third time does it!
She opens the other case, her waterproof money case, and pets her money. Suddenly up out of the dark water the motorcycle rises. It is on the shoulders of Brother. She laughs.
BROTHER I saved my prize bike. Pam? Are you okay?
PAM: Yes, yes, yes, Brother, I’m fine. It’s over. Let’s go back to whatever’s left at home.
She plumps a tiara on his head and they walk toward the fire-engine.
EXT. PAM’S HOUSE-NIGHT
Pam and Brother pull up to the ruins of the house quietly in the fire-engine, no red flashing lights. The Motorcycle is mounted on the rear of the engine.
Mother sits at her table in the ruins of the house, dealing solitaire by flashlight. Sister has found one outlet and is watching TV among her usual cover of babies.
TV SOUND is of gunshots, screams, sirens, and cars.
Father is tied to the torture-rack, but Doc is working on the cord and plug with great difficulty by light from the TV.
Grandmother sits among the ruins, smoking and flicking ashes into the ruins. When she sees the fire engine, she quickly starts using a cupped hand as an ashtray.
MOTHER: Young lady, what do you mean coming home this late?
SISTER: You go out to fabulous parties, and we spend all day trying to advance the family. How’s it coming, Uncle Doc?
DOC: (Squinting at cord and plug) Couldn’t you watch lighter shows?
FATHER: I swear I’ll take the trash out from now on.
PAM: Oh, God, what will we do? I can’t send you to Florida. We don’t even have this house anymore.
BROTHER: But maybe I’ll win the Lotto lottery drawing tomorrow at midnight!
SISTER: Shut up!
(Turns up TV) It’s America’s Most Unsolved Criminals!
Pam sits in the ruins, too numb to sob.
Kevin pulls up in her pick—up. He wanders through the ruins to Pam, sits by her.
KEVIN: Does this mean you’ll be free to fix my wagon earlier so I can get out of this hick town tomorrow?
PAM: Oh, Kevin, what can I do? I wrecked the Women’s Club. I couldn’t recruit a new saleswoman and win the prize. And I’m hopelessly off schedule!
SISTER: Quiet, I can’t hear the TV. And what else have we got?
Pam sighs and looks over her shoulder at the TV, idly. THE TV SCREEN
We see the face of the Biker growing from a small dot to fill the screen as a VOICE says:
VOICE ON TV:
And most wanted of all, the disgusting and dangerous Biker Burnside, whose many crimes and misdemeanors have gained him the ultimate accolade: the reward for his capture now stands at one hundred thousand dollars!
CUT BACK AND FORTH BETWEEN:
Biker’s face on TV, and —
—Pam’s wide-eyed face lit by the TV’s light,
On a huge CLOSE-UP of Pam calculating, we —
FADE OUT
FADE IN
EXT. LANDFILL STREETS-DAY-NEXT MORNING
EXTREME CLOSE ON:
A poster. A huge picture of Pam, conspicuously holding her overflowing money-case. Text reads: ” Tonight! Sunday! County Fair! PAM of Rosy Glow! Tonight! Sunday! County Fair!”
A SERIES OF QUICK SHOTS of Pam’ s and Kevin’s hands putting up posters on walls, mailboxes, telephone poles, and under windshield wipers all over town.
EXT. LANDFILL STREETS-DAY-CONTINUOUS
The following dialogue takes place in a SERIES OF THREE SHOTS of Pam and Kevin at various places, postering.
KEVIN: (Handing Pam poster)
But I thought you always said the philosophy of Rosy Glow was to avoid cheap publicity and instead depend on the value of the product and word-of-mouth from satisfied customers to increase sales through positive reinforcement.
PAM: (Putting up poster) Yeah, well.
KEVIN: (Handing Pam poster)
I always admired you for your idealistic spirit in adhering to the tenets of Rosy Glow.
PAM: (Putting up poster) Yeah, well.
KEVIN; (Handing Pam poster)
I thought you were better than the average American in this era of shallow images and media mind-manipulation.
PAM: (Putting up poster) Yeah, well.
INT. XEROX SHOP-DAY
A tiny, ratty dump. The Xerox Sirl is wrestling with paper stuck in the machine. Kevin and Pam, loaded with postering gear, are waiting. Pam, as always, has her money-case.
KEVIN: I feel like I’m seeing you for the first time. You’re vain and greedy.
PAM: Yeah, well.
(To Xerox Girl) Hustle it up, honey, I need those posters.
XEROX GIRL: I’m doing the best I can.
KEVIN: I feel you embody all the shoddiest principles of our decaying society.
PAM: Yeah, well. (To Xerox Girl) Look, that’s a model twelve-twenty. There ought to be an automatic eject.
XEROX GIRL: (Bursts into tears) I can’t help it.
PAM: (Takes over Xerox job) Here, let me at it.
(She starts expertly repairing machine) What were you saying, Kevin?
KEVIN: You ran off with that Hell’s Angel last night and stayed out late. I’m not sure I want to know you any more.
PAM: (Handing him part) Here, hold this.
KEVIN: I thought we had a friendship based on shared values. I think I want to discontinue it.
He hands Xerox Girl part and leaves.
PAM: (Her head still in the machine) Kevin, try to understand. There’s someone I want to be able to find me, so I’m trying to make it easy for him to locate me. Surely you can understand that. Hold this. (Holds out another part, which Xerox Girl takes) Everything I ever wanted for my family hangs on this. And everything I ever wanted for myself. And, well, shucks, I guess you probably know it already, I guess I might as well go ahead and say it, everything I ever wanted for us. … Kevin7 … Haven’t you got anything to say?
SOUND of weeping.
PAM: Kevin? Are you crying?
She turns around to face weeping Xerox Girl, daintily holding two parts of the Xerox machine.
XEROX GIRL: I can’t help it. I only started today.
Pam grabs the two parts and dives back into the Xerox machine. She suddenly turns around and jams a card into the Xerox Girl’s mouth.
PAM: Have a complimentary facial.
She punches a button and the Xerox starts hump—a—bumping smoothly.
CLOSE ON:
The posters sliding out of the machine.
EXT. THE FAIRGROUNDS-DAY
The usual bunch of barn—like display buildings, a surrealistic array of rides. Prominent: a barn-like building with a banner “Commercial Displays.” Mary Joanne is seen entering “Commercial Displays” building carrying a huge floral arrangement.
INT. COMMERCIAL DISPLAYS BUILDING-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Many WORKERS are setting up displays. The fair is not
open until tonight. All Workers wear T-shirts with logos for
their particular products.
Mary Joanne (in a gaudy “Landfill Floral Society” T—Shirt with a huge Bird Qf Paradise corsage) threads her way through a maze of makeshift booths for everything from real estate, anti—abortion, water—picks, political candidates, home spas and Jacuzzis (fully-functioning, with steaming water), lucky Lotto candles (With sign “$75, COO, GOO at Midnight!”), self-esteem tapes (Several of these) , caged parrots ( just being delivered), a Paint-YouerOwn T-Shirt stand with whirling tables on which T-shirts are stretched to be splashed with Abstract-Expressionist Day-Glo designs (Being messily demonstrated as Mary Joanne passes), and, finally, the Rosy Glow booth.
SOUND: As Mary Joanne winds her way through the booths, we hear overlapping Self-esteem tapes from various booths, in a number of different voices, variously soothing, seductive, aggressive, and bullying, some with appropriate music under them.
SELF-ESTEEM TAPES: (Overlapping) “You are one of the beautiful people of this Earth, an unrepeatable miracle, a phenomenon of unique abilities and attractive qualities.”
“Tell yourself every morning: I’m sensational! I’m astonishing! I’m breathtaking! I’m dynamic! I’m decisive! I’m thrilling! I’m stimulating! I’m exotic yet everyday. I ‘m understanding yet moralistic!”
“Who is that delicious person in your mirror”? What hardships and delights went to create that unparalleled, unequalled personality? Everything that ever happened to you is good, because it all went to make you as good as you are. Love your past. It gave you your ambitions and your dreams.”
“Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not wonderfull Who do they think they are, putting you down? What did they ever do that was so great, anyway? You’re worth ten of those phonies! Twenty! Thirty! Forty!”
“Don’ t let anyone tell you you’re selfish! if there were no ugly words, then there would be no ugliness. You’re not selfish. You’re loyal to yourself. And what more blessed virtue is there than loyalty? Poets have extolled loyalty since time began. Everything you do for yourself is just further proof of what a dependable friend you can be.”
“Oh, woe is me. I have been mistreated. Nobody understands me. I never had a break. People are no good. They step all over me if they get a chance. I could do anything if somebody just believed in me totally, utterly, unselfishly, unconditionally.”
“I can forgive everyone for being what they are, because I wish to be forgiven for what I am. I understand that they must do the things they do, for I must do the th ings that I must do, and thinking takes up too much time. After all, who thinks? Failures, malcontents, and troublemakers. I feel very deeply, and that’s good enough for me. if there is an afterlife, I shall be judged, and if there is not, I don’t have to worry anyway.”
INT. COMMERCIAL BUILDING-ROSY GLOW BOOTH-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Several of last night’s Awardees (most with plaster casts on some part of their anatomies), not a white face among them, in tiaras, sashes, and capes over gaudy “Rosy Glow” T-shirts, are furbishing the booth with far too much angel’s hair, chiffon, silver stars, plastic orchids, tinsel fringe, twinkling lights. A giant “Rosy Slow” logo is completely concealed by the overflow of decoration.
The Gay Guy and his Lover are in the background painting pretty flowers on the casts of whoever is not busy at the moment.
MARY JOANNE: I’m sure I beg your pardon, but can you direct
me to the Rosy Glow booth?
AWARDEE: (On a ladder) Ain’t choo got eyes?
ANOTHER AWARDEE: (Lifting a veil of tinsel and chiffon to reveal logo) This here is it.
A THIRD AWARDEE: (Jams handful of cards at Mary Joanne) Here, have some free facials.
MARY JOANNE: I’m sure I’m sorry. I’m sure I’m just delivering a complimentary floral arrangement. I’m sure it’s good of me after most of them were destroyed by you people’s vulgar floor show last evening. I’m leaving it and going to my own non-commercial booth.
slay
AN AWARDEE: Are you sure?
Mary Joanne huffs away.
AN AWARDEE: Where am I supposed to put flowers? Where’s Pam?
ANOTHER: I don’t know. It ain’t like her to be off-schedule.
ANOTHER: Put ’em on the pi—an—o.
AWARDEE WITH FLOWERS: Where’s the pi—an-o?
ANOTHER: Over here, I think.
She lifts some more gauze and tinsel to reveal Morilla, head in bandage and arm in cast, seated gamely at a hastily— repaired heliotrope piano.
MORILLA: Ready when you are.
Awardee jams flowers onto piano, drops veil over area.
AWARDEE: There! Play something to attract business, Morilla.
MORILLA: (From within) I can’t see my music.
AN AWARDEE: You think we overdecorated?
AWARDEE: What does “overdecorated” mean?
AWARDEE: Play something you know, Morilla!
MORILLA: (Hidden, sings) “I may be wrong, but I think you’re wonderful.”
PAM suddenly appears, dragging huge, mounted poster.
PAM: So here you are. I been looking everywhere. For Pete’s sake, uncover the logo. Let him know where I am!
AWARDEE: He who?
ANOTHER: Pam has a boyfriend!
PAM: I mean, “Let them know where we are!” (She starts tearing down decor) Get rid of this camouflage-(She holds up giant poster) And put this up!
The Awardees are startled by the huge poster, a duplicate of that we’ve already seen.
PAM: Come on, hustle it up!
She tears down veil revealing Morilla, who gratefully launches into another song from her sheet music.
MORILLA: Oh, thanks, Pam. (Sings) “Love is sweeping the country! Waves are hugging the shore! All the sexes from Maine to Texas have never felt such love before!”
PAM: (Over the song) That’s the spirit, Morilla! Sing it up. Set up that poster! Make those lights twinkle! We have to attract attention!
EXT. CANAL-DAY-CONTINUOUS
MUSIC: Ominous organ stings.
We pan along the canal. We see the tracks of last night ‘s chase. We travel past them to a particularly complicated arrangement of sluice-gates. We see huge footprints on the edge of the canal. We follow them
MUSIC: Begins to pick up as we follow the footprints, in the rhythm of a stalking beast.
ANOTHER ANGLE:

POV of walker. Ancient JOGGERS come panting along the canal.
They see the walker and scream and try to run faster. Walker
obviously ignores them and goes on foilowing tracks of first
Pam and Brother, then of fire—engine.
INT- COMMERCIAL BUILDING-PAM’S BOOTH-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Pam is on a ladder with a bullhorn. The poster of her is in evidence. In background, Awardees, their casts mostly decorated now, are selling cosmetics to the small crowd that is beginning to filter through the building. Say Guy and Lover are finishing decorating casts.
PAM: (Over bullhorn) Yes, here I am, Pam, the fabulously successful Rosy Glow dealer with mountains of money! Here I am ! Come and get me!
Mori l la finishes the same phrase of “Love is Sweeping the Country” which we heard before and starts it again.
AN AWARDEE: Morilla, can’t you play the whole song?
MORILLA: I need someone to turn pages!
EXT. THE CANAL ROAD-SUNSET-CONTINUOUS
POV of walker, we are still lumbering forward fol lowing the fire-engine tracks- Dogs run toward us barking, look at us, and flee yelping.
The tracks come to a paved street. We look both ways. No tracks. We look at a telephone pole.
CLOSE ON:
Poster of Pam on telephone pole.
EXT. PAM’S HOUSE-SUNSET-CONTINUOUS
As before. Mother playing cards. Sister watching TV. Babies yowling. Dogs fighting. Fire-engine still there. Grandmother sitting smoking with huge pile of ashes in hand. Father strapped on rack. Bike in driveway. Brother sitting on bike, eating Kitty-Litter from bag. Doc is fiddling with some small electrical device. Biker’s bike is in driveway.
Next door, we see Kevin with his head under the hood of his wagon.
DOC: I think I’ve almost got it !
INT. COMMERCIAL BUILDING-PAM’S BOOTH-EVENING-CONTINUOUS
Pam standing on tip top of ladder.
PAM:Darn! Where is he? I guess he’s not coming.
She sits and dials her eellular phone.
INT. YUNIYOSHI’S MOBILE HOME-EVENING-CONTINUOUS
Yuniyoshi, in several plaster casts, sits looking at her ringing phone. She raises her shotgun and blasts the phone
to pieces.
INT. COMMERCIAL BUILDING-PAM’S BOOTH-EVENING-CONTINUOUS
Pam looks at phone curiously, puts it away. She picks up bullhorn and cries through it:
PAM: Come on, come on, I’m waiting for you!
(Gives up, sighs)
If he’s alive, he must have seen the poster by now!
EXT. ROAD-THE TELEPHONE POLE-EVENING-CONTINUOUS
MUSIC: Stalking music.
CLOSE ON: Biker’s PQV: The poster of Pam.
Biker’s hand reaches up and tears it off pole! He holds it before him. Pause. Turns it upside down.
BIKER’S VOICE: That’s her! But what’s it say?
EXT. PAM’S HOUSE-EVENING-CONTINUOUS
DOC: Eureka!
GRANDMOTHER: Well, I ain’t got no way to bathe!
DOC: Sister, look what I invented! (Holds out object to her)
SISTER: So what? It’s a two-way plug. You think you’re Columbus?
DOC: But now you can watch your TV and I can still torture your father!
SISTER: (Hops up, excited) Why didn’t you say so?
FATHER: Let me up. I’ll take out trash!
BROTHER: How long is it till Lotto?
DOC: We just have to unplug your TV.
SISTER: No! It’s Zorro!
DOC: Just for a second. (He unplugs TV and inserts double socket)
SISTER: Wait till a commercial!
DOC: (Re-plugs TV) There!
SISTER: He made a “Z” with his sword. I missed it!
DOC: (Plugs in torture table) There!
Father begins to buckle and moan.
DOC: What hath God wrought!
MUCH WIDER ANGLE: MUSIC: Stalking music.
Biker’s POV: We are lumbering toward Pam’s house. We see Doc dancing in delight, Sister returning to TV, yelling:
SISTER: Just get him to say he raped me.
Also Brother sitting munching, Grandma tossing ash into the air, Mother turning cards, children and animals running wild. Kevin next door in soft porch—light is still absorbed in his car. As we approach ever nearer:
SISTER: I have to do everything around here.
DOC: (To Father) Remember you raped her? Remember how you held her down?
FATHER: (Thrashing) I can carry trash! Two bags of trash!
Dogs and cats see Biker, run toward us- They screech to a halt, and turn, yipping and howling to hide under the fire-truck
Mother sees Biker.
MOTHER: Look, it’s a parade.
GRANDMOTHER: (Of Biker) Him! He tried to rape me!
SISTER: Don’t try to horn in on this, you old coot!
We are actually tramping through the ruins now. Brother sees us.
BROTHER: Am I really seein’ you or what?
Biker thrusts poster into Brother’s face.
BIKER’S VOICE: Read this! Where is she?
BROTHER: I won’t tell you!
Biker’s hands reach out and throw Brother over, as it happens, onto Father. Brother instantly receives electrical shocks by contact and starts twitching.
BIKER’S VOICE: Ha ! Ha ! That hurts you, don’t it?
Brother yowls.
EXT. KEVIN’S DRIVEWAY-EVENING-CONTINUOUS
Kevin idly looks up at noise, shakes his head, goes back under hood.
EXT. PAM’S HOUSE-EVENING-CONTINUOUS
Biker ‘s POV. Brother is twitching. Doc, who doesn’t even notice who he’s torturing, yells—
DOC: It works! it works!
BIKER’S VOICE: Tell me where she is ! Tell me where she is!
BROTHER: Agggh. No, no, never! Aggggh. I’ll never betray my sister ! Agggggh! You can’t make me !
ANOTHER ANGLE:
SISTER: (Rapt on TV) Yell quieter, it’s Tom and Jerry.
Biker ‘s POV: He steps past Brother to Mother.
BIKER’S VOICE: Where is she? Where ‘s the one with the money?
MOTHER: You don’t think I know? She has a will of her own. I can’t do a thing with her.
We spin to return to Brother on top of Father, writhing in agony, and Doc, merrily pressing his button.
BIKER’S VOICE: You better all tell me where she is or I’ll —
GRANDMOTHER: What? Blow our house down? (She cackles hysterically)
Biker’s hand grabs button from Doc.
BIKER’S VOICE: Here! Gimme that!
He presses the button and holds it down. Brother, and incidentally, Father, stiffen in shocked rigidity, electrical current flowing through them non-stop.
BIKER: Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!
CLOSE UP:
TV SCREEN, where Tom is about to do something particularly sadistic to Jerry. The picture disappears in a storm of static.
ANOTHER ANGLE:
SISTER: Hey, stop it! You’re makin’ snow! I’ll tell you !
BIKER’S POV: He whirls and faces Sister.
SISTER: She’s in the Commercial Building at the Fair Grounds. Now gimme that!
She grabs control button from Biker and sits down again with her back to him to watch cartoons.
Brother and Father subside.
EXT. KEVIN’S DRIVEWAY-EVENING-CONTINUOUS
Kevin comes out from under hood with a tremendous angry shrug. He slams hood, wipes his hands on a rag, throws rag away. Looks around.
He wanders over to Pam’s yard.
BIKER’S POV:
Kevin, walking toward us. With a sad, good-natured grin, he says:
KEVIN: Oh, hi. You ‘re that guy Pam ditched me for last night. Well, may the best man win. I’m leaving town, anyway.
He holds out his hand to be shaken. Biker’s hand grabs Kevin ‘s forearm.
BIKER’S VOICE: Where is fairground?
KEVIN: Oh, you going out to see Pam? I’m headed that way myself. I’ll show you. Unfortunately, my wagon ‘s cooked.
Biker’s hands reach out and lift Kevin into the air, swing him onto the handlebars of the bike.
BIKER’S VOICE: You tell me the way!
KEVIN: (Settlins on handlebars) See, thanks. Just wheel out this way and follow Bellevue to Creedmore.
We hop on bike and gun it up, whirling it about and out of the driveway. As we face the fire-truck, all the dogs and cats come running out from under it and chase us. We zoom through them and head for the fairgrounds.
ANGLE ON FAMILY IN RUINS:
Babies are eating Kitty Litter Brother dropped.
GRANDMOTHER: Awwww. He took Brother’s new bike!
SISTER
You get Father to confess yet? I’m tired of bein’poor. I want a big screen.
ANGLE ON:
Brother, sitting up with a strange new light in his eyes.
BROTHER: What is this? Suddenly I see clearly. The universe is a web of complex and yet orderly connections!
He turns to where Mother is playing solitaire.
BROTHER: No, no, Mother. Red six on the second black seven. And your next card will be — a black queen!
ANGLE ON:
Mother, glances at Brother, turns up card (a black queen).
MOTHER: I told you don’t do no voo—doo!
BROTHER: That curious biker is a social degenerate driven mad by ignorance, superstition, deprivation, and unrealistic expectations! And his obvious prey is a disciplined, aggressive, dynamic entrepreneur of a trusting, broadly social nature. That bastard took my bike to hurt Pam!
Brother takes off in a startling burst of energy, running to save Pam.
SISTER: Don’t juice— up Father yet. It’s Wheel of Fortune!
CLOSE ON: TV SCREEN
A puzzle appears on screen, blank letters and the legend: “Quotation. ”
ANGLE ON FATHER
FATHER: (Strange new light in his eyes) “The quality of mercy is not strained!”
ANGLE ON:
Sister’s and Doc’s shocked faces.
CLOSE ON
TV SCREEN
Vanna White is turning last letters of quotation. Father is right! “The quality of mercy is not strained.”
ANGLE ON
Sister and Doc, gleeful.
SISTER: You done it ! He can spell!
DOC: Let ‘s go sweet-talk Pam out of some money to go to Los Angeles !
WIDE ANGLE
The ruins, featuring fire-truck. Doc drags Father, still on torture-rack, onto fire-truck. Sister is bringing TV.
EXT. STREETS-EVENING-CONTINUOUS
Biker’s POV: As we speed through streets toward fairgrounds, Biker’s hand is lashing Kevin to motorcycle. Biker obeys Kevin’s route instructions. Traffic veers away from him, crashes, etc.
KEVIN: Oh, thanks, but that won’t be necessary. We take a right here. I think there’s a speed limit.
E XT. STREETS-EVENING-CONTINUOUS
Brother is running along streets, leaping over the cars wrecked in Biker’s wake.
EXT. STREETS-NIGHT-CONTINUOUS
Doc and Sister, Father and babies on fire-truck. Sister has TV plugged into clearly-marked “generator.” “Wheel of Fortune” is still on.
Mom sits in back, trying to play solitaire, cards flying away. Grandmother tries to smoke, lighter blowing out.
FATHER: (Solving TV puzzle) “Acid and Singin’ in the Rain!”
Sister and Doc cheer.
EXT. COMMERCIAL BUILDING-NIGHT
Biker’s POV: Commercial Building in distance. Kevin on handlebars.
KEVIN: Pam’s booth is in that biggest building. I think you can park —
We zoom past the parking lot.
KEVIN: (Beginning to be frightened) — back there?
INT. COMMERCIAL BUILDING-PAM’S BOOTH-NIGHT-CONTINUOUS
SOUND: Morilla sings, “The Most Beautiful Girl in the World.” Background SOUNDS: Busy carnival crowd.
Pam is coming down ladder, on which we see letters spelling S-e-l-l y-o-u-r w~a-y t-o t-h-e t-o-p.
PAM: (To Awardee)
I guess my party ain’t comin’. I guess I ain’t havin’ my party.
There are lots of customers around the booth.
PAM: You girls handle the booth. Sell everything. Keep the money. It don’t hardly matter. Don’t nothin’ hardly matter. None. No more.
Ram walks sadly away toward the building’s front exit (Leading to rest of Fair) , with only her money-case to keep her warm.
EXT. COMMERCIAL BUILDING-NI6HT-CONTINUQUS
Biker’s POV: Kevin on handlebars. We are headed for the back door of the building.
KEVIN: I don’t think this is legal!
IN SLOW MOTION: We burst through the doors. We ride crazily through the maze of booths, sending Workers and CUSTOMERS scattering wildly.
SOUND: Quick snatches of the Self—esteem tapes, at normal speed-
SELF-ESTEEM TAPES: “You’re wonderful ! ” “You’re unique!”
“Everybody treats you badly!”
The parrots break loose and fly about, squawking phrases from the Self-esteem tapes at normal speed_._
PARROTS: You’re terrific! Everything you do is okay! There’s nobody like you!
EXT. FAIRGROUNDS-NIGHT-CONTINUOUS
The Carnival midway. Pam wanders through blinking lights, neon, game-booths. Every game booth has thousands of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle stuffed dolls hanging for prizes.
INT. COMMERCIAL BUILDING-NIGHT-CONTINUOUS
IN SLOW MOTION: Biker’s POV: We crash through Jacuzzis, sending steam and water flying. Kevin flies off bike to come to rest on T—Shirts turntable.
ANOTHER ANGLE:
Kevin unconscious on turntable, spinning and getting painted with livid Day-Glo colors.
Caretaker and Retards, all holding onto rope, dance by.
Biker’s POV: We turn a corner and see the giant poster of Pam. Screech to a halt sending “success” ladder flying. Biker’s hand reaches out and grabs an Awardee.
RETURN TO NORMAL SPEED
BIKER’S VOICE: Where is she? Where’s Pam?
AWARDEE:Pam’s not here. I can take care of you. Man, you need a complimentary facial.
Biker’s hands toss her at Morilla. We back up and speed away toward open front doors of Commercial Bui Id ing, sending crowd scattering and screaming.
ANOTHER ANGLE:
Kevin is flung off turntable, crashes into Lotto candle booth. He stands up shakily, says:
KEVIN: Pam. I’ve got to save Pam!
He runs off, reveal ing a “Lotto” poster stuck to his back. Retards run after him.
EXT. THE CARNIVAL MIDWAY-NIGHT-CONTINUOUS
WIDE ON
The Ferris wheel, seen from below (Pam’s POV)
ANGLE ON:
Pam stands staring up at the huge Ferris wheel.
CLOSE ON:
Pam’s face, reaching a decision.
ANOTHER ANGLE:
Pam buys a ticket for the Ferris wheel, walks like a convict going to the chair to get into a swinging seat, alone.
INT. & EXT. VARIOUS SPOTS ON FAIRGROUNDS
VARIOUS ANGLES: Biker’s POV in MONTAGE:
Quick shots of various booths and games as everyone reacts to Biker’s apparently dreadful appearance, including
A pitch—ball game booth whose customers flee and whose proprietor falls backwards knocking down mountains of milk bottles.
A livestock building where tethered horses, cows, pigs, and goats react wildly to the passing bike.
The Floral BuiIding, where Mary Joanne and the Floral Society ladies hold flowers over their heads to save them from destruction.
A cotton candy booth whose wheel spins shooting streamers of spun sugar.
A Bungee Cord ride, where people bobbing up and down on Bungee cords shriek in terror.
Fence, in his Kaiser Wilhelm helmet, with his back to us, holding his coat lapels open. He turns and we see watches by the dozen hanging inside his jacket.
FENCE: Oh, hi, Biker, got something for me to fence?.
Biker goes on, searching for Pam.
EXT. FAIRGROUNDS-PARKING LOT-NIGHT-CONTINUOUS
Family on fire engine and Brother, running, arrive simultaneously. Brother runs on into fairgrounds. Family hops down variously.
ANGLE ON:
Sister, getting out carrying TV set, trailing long, long, long extension cord behind her.
EXT- MIDWAY-NIGHT-CONTINUOUS
The Ferris wheel. Pam is rising high into the air, above the noise and ruckus.
Pam’s POV:
We see the fairgrounds shrinking below.
ANGLE ON:
Pam, standing as her seat slowly reaches its peak. She sets her money—bag aside and starts to put one leg over the edge of her seat, obviously preparatory to leaping.
ANGLE ON:
Kevin, followed by Retards and Caretaker, reaching the foot of the wheel. He screams:
KEVIN: Stop the wheel!
ANGLE ON:
The Ferris wheel operator, reflexively obeying Kevin’s command.
WIDE ANGLE ON:
The huge wheel, drawing to a quick, jerky halt with Pam’s seat on top.
ANGLE ON:
Pam, standing up in her seat. The quick halt almost throws her off. She instinctively grasps the seat to save herself. With one tug, she pulls herself up onto the very rim of the stopped wheel.
Pam’s POV:
Kevin below, shouting:
KEVIN: Pam! Pam!
Behind him, the Retards are trying to clap, but they keep missing their own hands.
ANGLE ON:
Pam, poised like a diver on the rim of the wheel.
PAM: Good—bye, Kevin. Sorry about your wagon!
Pam’s POV: Kevin shouting.
KEVIN: Pam! Watch out! The biker is here) (He points to his left — Pam’s right)
EXTREME CLOSE ON:
KEVIN: (Shouts) I hate to sound jealous, but I think there’s a strong possibility he might be evil!
CLOSE ON:
Pam, looking wildly about.
ANBLE ON:
Pam’ s POV: The outside edge of the Ferris wheel, up which the biker is with great difficulty and stamina riding his bike.
The biker, seen for the first time since he climbed out of the river, is an horrendous mess; to the sofa—springs and the garbage stuck on them have now been added dozens of tiaras protruding from his blood-caked flesh. Dead fish and fresh flowers hang on the exposed points of the tiaras. His burn-scarred bald head and face are in a ghastly snarl, and his eye-patch is gone, reveal ing an empty socket stuffed wi th a fish. If he resembles anything in human history, it is some kind of nightmare vision of a Sumo wrestler in K’abuki clothes designed by Salvador Dali on drugs.
He is riding up the wheel slowly so as to stay balanced, making only a scant inch a minute.
ANGLE ON
Kevin on the midway. Brother, barely panting, arrives beside him, sees retards looking up, looks up.
KEVIN
(To wheel operator) Start the wheel again. Knock him off!
BROTHER: (With intelligent authority) No. Pam will fall as well.
Brother’s POV: The wheel from below, Pam poised precariously on the rim, the biker, now shaving his bike by foot, inching forward second by second.
MEDIUM ON:
Kevin and Brother and a small crowd beginning to gather around them to look up at Pam’s plight. This crowd should gradually grow throughout the sequence until it includes most of the people we’ve met in the story so far.
KEVIN: But we’ve got to save her!
BROTHER: Oh, don’t worry. All my mental faculties are focused now. nothing could prevent my saving her —
Brother’s POV: He looks down at Kevin ‘s back, where the word “Lotto” stands out in bold colors.
CLOSE ON:
Brother, receiving a shock. A parrot lands on his shoulder.
PARROT: Anything you do is okay!
BROTHER: Winning Lotto numbers are a selection of seven numbers from a selection of fifty. Calculating the winning Lotto figures for the last seven hundred and fifty weeks, this week ‘s winner will, logically be —
Brother is galvanized and runs away followed by the Parrot, both screaming:
BROTHER/PARROT: Lotto! Lotto! Lotto!
ANGLE ON:
Kevin, spinning to watch Brother flee as the Retards again attempt to clap, and then spinning back to look up at —
ANGLE over Kevin’s shoulder: With him we see the Biker slowly making his way toward the still-teetering Pam.
CLOSE ON:
Biker’s face. He is huffing and gurgling in joy.
CLOSE ON:
Pam ‘s face. She is transfixed by disgust and horror. She glances down.
Pam ‘s POV: Kevin running away, with the Retards following merrily after.
PAN around to Pam’s money-case lying on the seat just below her.
CLOSE ON:
Pam’s face, tortured with indecision.
NOTE: From here on, wherever we see the Midway crowd, some people are looking up to watch Pam and the Biker, but an equal number either just look up and go on about their business, or ignore the perilous spectacle completely. The crowd comes to include most of the people we have seen throughout the film.
ANOTHER SPOT ON THE MIDWAY-TEST OF STRENGTH GAME
A test of strength game, in which one bangs on a lever with a sledgehammer in order to propel a ball at the other end of the lever up a rod to ring a bell. Along the way, on a backboard behind the rod the ball is strung on, are comic “ratings” of strength: “Lover,” “Pansy,” “Pushover,” “Softy,” “Clark Kent,” “Athlete,” “Hero,” and “King Kong.”
Brother and Parrot run past this game.
PARROT: You’ve got to do everything yourself!
Just after Brother passes, A BIG LUG swings the hammer.
INSERT
Ball going only to “Pushover.”
ANGLE ON
Viewers of game. Laughing at the “Pushover.”
ANOTHER PART OF THE MIDWAY
Kevin, trailing Retards, is running through the crowd that has gathered to watch the spectacle above. He passes Sister and Doc, Mother and Grandmother. Mother is playing cards standing up, laying them on Sister’s toted TV. Father is still strapped to the table. Sister and Father are watching TV.
GRANDMOTHER: (To Kevin as he runs past) Got a light? Got a light?
They are all standing by Fence.
FENCE: (Opening coat) No, but I got the time. (Noticing them.) Oh, hi, Doc.
DOC: Hi, Fence. Long time no see.
FENCE: Not since you lost the right to sign prescriptions.
FATHER: (Guessing from game on TV) “Environmentalists of the Adirondack!”
SISTER: Doc, he’s right again! Your torture—table works!
FENCE: Hmmm. Wanna sell the torture-table?
DOC: Later, perhaps. We’re watching my niece’s suicide.
All look up, Mother, Father, and Sister only briefly before they return to cards and TV. Grandmother, Doc, and Fence remain looking up.
ANOTHER SPOT ON THE MIDWAY
Kevin, trailing Retards, runs past a police car, which turns out to be driven by Yuniyoshi. Her Husband is a passenger.
YUNIYOSHI; (Getting out of car) Good, we get in American fair free. That’s why I marry cop.
As cop gets out of car, Brother, with Parrot, runs past headed the opposite direction from Kevin.
PARROT: Nobody will do anything for you!
ANOTHER SPOT ON THE MIDWAY-TEST OF STRENGTH GAME
The test of strength game. Kevin and Retards run past.
ANOTHER BIG LUG swings the hammer.
INSERT
Ball going only to “Clark Kent.”
ANGLE ON
Viewers of game. Laughing at the “Clark Kent. ”
ANOTHER PART OF THE MIDWAY-LOTTO BOOTH
Brother, with Parrot, is at a Lotto booth. Signs read “Midnight Lotto: $75,OOO,OOO!” An electronic read-out sign twinkles, “Twenty Minutes till Midnight Lotto!”
BROTHER: Gimme a ticket!
DEALER: Gimme a dollar.
Brother turns and starts begging.
BROTHER: (To passers-by) Gimme a dollar. Please. One dollar. Please.
Everyone ignores him.
ANOTHER PART OF THE MIDWAY-BUNGEE CORD RIDE TICKET BOOTH
The Bungee Cord Ride. Attendant gazing up at Pam. Kevin, trailed by retards, arrives, panting. He points a finger.
CLOSE ON:
What Kevin is pointing at: extra coils of Bungee cord.
ATOP FERRIS WHEEL
Biker edges ever closer. Parrots settle on his shoulders, squawking:
PARROTS: You deserve everything. You deserve everything.
ANGLE ON:
Pam, still paralyzed with fear.
ANOTHER PART OF THE MIDWAY – THE STRENGTH GAME
Kevin (Trailed by retards) and the Bungee Cord Game man run past with a coil of Bungee Cord.
A figure we cannot see swings the hammer.
INSERT
Ball going all the way to “King Kong.”
ANGLE ON
The winner, the Gay Guy, being wildly applauded, especially by his Lover. A Parrot lands on Gay Guy’s shoulder.
PARROT: You can do anything!
Gay Guy flexes his muscle. His Lover feels it, admiringly.
AT THE LOTTO GAME
Brother still begging. Sign: “Ten minutes to Midnight Lotto.”
BROTHER: (To unheeding passers-by) A dollar. All I need is a dollar.
A PASSERBY: Look at that, Luke. Landfill is goin’ to hell.
LUKE: Yeah, we got panhandlers now, just like New York.
PARROT: Help yourself ! Help yourself !
CLOSE ON:
Brother, getting an idea.
AT THE FOOT OF THE FERRIS WHEEL:
Kevin and Bungee cord man have tied one end of Bungee cord to the bumper of Yuniyoshi’s Husband’s cop car. Yuniyoshi and her Husband sit on the front fenders of the car to hold it down. The other end of the cord is tied to a derrick crane.
KEVIN: Stand back now. (Calls) I ‘m corning, Pam !
ANGLE ON
Yuniyoshi and Husband, watching in puzzlement.
YUNIYOSHI:hat they do? Is this American custom?
HUSBAND: (Admiring ) He’s gonna save his girl.
ANGLE ON
Derrick crane, stretching the Bungee cord higher and higher.
THE LOTTO BOOTH
An improvised booth made of giant Lotto posters leaning together. Mother sits at a card table, still dealing solitaire, a parrot beside her as she chants:
MOTHER/PARROT : See the real New York panhandler. Five cents.
A line of people moves forward to enter the booth one by one
INSIDE THE BOOTH
People file past as Brother mumbles,
BROTHER: Spare any change, man? Hey, got a nickel for a cup of coffee7 Gimme some change, man, I ain’t et in a week.
Each customer drops a nickel in Brother’s outstretched “I ( Heart) New York” paper cup.
ANGLE ON:
The derrick crane, deftly hooking the Bungee cord tautly on the rim of the Ferris wheel.
PULL BACK TO REVEAL:
Pam, right by the place where the cord is hooked, still tottering on the edge of destruction, Biker ever nearer.
AT THE FOOT OF THE FERRIS WHEEL
Kevin shakes hands with the Bungee cord man, hangs onto the taut cord, and nods his head.
Yuniyoshi and her Husband hop off the car, which bounces upward, releasing the Bungee cord with Kevin on it.
ANGLE ON
The Retards, trying to applaud Kevin, and failing.
TRACK UPWARD WITH
Kevin at the end of the Bungee cord, flying upward.
Kevin’s POV: Imperiled Pam and menacing Biker, zooming nearer.
CLOSE ON
Kevin ‘s face as he speeds through space.
KEVIN: I’m coming, Pam! Don’t worry!
WIDER
We are above Pam and the Biker, watching Kevin shoot up through space with a smile on his beautiful face.
ANOTHER ANGLE
Directly at Pam’s feet, Kevin’s head hits the rim of the wheel with a resounding “Clang!”
WIDER
Kevin bounces down and then back, slinging around the rim of the wheel and being thrown —
PAM’S FERRIS WHEEL SEAT
— right into Pam’s seat, where he lies unconscious with his head on her case of money.
ANGLE ON
Pam, wavering as she looks back and forth between Kevin and
ANGLE ON
-Biker, who has reached her at last.
ANOTHER ANGLE
Pam and Biker. As he reaches for her, she falls —
ANGLE ABOVE
the crowd below, looking up, gasping.
PAM’S FERRIS WHEEL SEAT
She falls into the seat with Kevin and her money-case.
ANGLE ABOVE
Crowd below, sighing.
ANGLE BEHIND PAM’S FERRIS WHEEL SEAT
Pam cringes as Biker crawls on his hands and knees to loom just above her.
BIKE: Now I gotcha!
ANGLE ON
PAM: Oh, what the hell do I care? Take my money! (She picks up money case.) Nothing means anything anymore.
ANGLE ON
BIKER: (Shaking his head) Oh, no. I’ll take the money, but first I’m gonna kill you.
ANGLE ON
PAM: So? Do you think I care? Do you think I give a damn for my life? I was about to kill myself anyway.
ANGLE ON
BIKER: Oh, yeah? Well, first I’m gonna rape you.
ANGLE ON
PAM: You can’t do anything to me that life ain’t already done. Just shut up and hurry up and do it.
ANGLE ON
Biker, leering, moving in.
THE LOTTO BOOTH
Brother bursts out of his “panhandler” booth with handfuls of nickels. The electronic sign reads “Two minutes to Midnight Lotto!”
BROTHER: Here, here, one dollar, gimme a ticket,
Bored Dealer hands him one. With the speed of light, Brother circles six numbers and thrusts it back at dealer, who jams it into validating machine just as the sign changes to “One minute to midnight Lotto!”
ATOP THE FERRIS WHEEL
Biker is almost in the seat with Pam and Kevin and money case. The Parrots are squawking.
BIKER: But that ain’t all I’m gonna do. I’m gonna rape and murder your little friend here, too!
CLOSE ON
Pam, as she gasps and turns to look at—
ANGLE ON
— beautiful, helpless unconscious Kevin
CLOSE ON
PAM: (Looking back at Biker, angry) You what?
WIDER
Biker laughs like a madman and leaps into the seat with her.
ANGLE BEHIND VIEWERS BELOW
We see over their shoulders as Biker leaps into seat and the seat swings crazily. Viewers gasp.
ATOP THE FERRIS WHEEL
PAM: Oh, no, you don’t.
Holding money case, she leaps onto Ferris wheel rim.
PAM: You can chase me, you can torture me, you can rape me, you can kill me, you can take my money!
Biker is grunting angry cries and swinging crazily at her legs as the seat swings with him and Kevin in it.
He bounds up onto the rim of the wheel with her and manages to clutch the case, pulling her to him.
PAM: (Digging in the case he clutches) But no way are you messing with Kevin before I do!
She whips out the illuminated enlarging mirror and holds it up before him.
EXTREME CLOSE-UP OF
Enlarging mirror with Biker ‘s incredibly ugly burned, bloody, eyeless face in it.
PARROTS’ VOICES: Look in the mirror ! Look at your face !
EXTREME CLOSE-UP
Apparently the same shot, but actually Biker ‘s real face as he screams in terror and f alls backwards.
ANGLE ON PAM
She stands on rim of wheel , just catches case as Biker lets go of it and falls into space.
BIKER’S DEATH:
As Biker falls into ever lower positions, we see SHOTS of the crowd, led by Yuniyoshi and her Husband, but growing to include the Family and Fence, running from place to place as a mob.
Biker falls into a swinging seat of a swirling swings ride, is thrown out and lands in a roller-coaster car, is flung out and falls in a tilt-a-whirl car, falls out and lands in a centrifugal force machine, just a story above ground- level now.
ANGLE ON
PAM: My God, he’s gonna survive again!
ANGLE ABOVE
Family, the Yuniyoshis, and Fence, their heads swirling as they watch Biker on the centrifugal force ride.
ANGLE ON
The operator of the centrifugal force ride, reaching for the lever to stop it. He pulls lever.
WIDE ANGLE
The centrifugal force machine stops short.
CLOSE ON
Biker, as the machine stops and he is flung into the air.
TRAVEL WITH
Biker, as he flies through the air.
Biker’s POV: For the last time, we see as Biker. We are falling down upon the Family, Fence, Yuniyoshi group.
EXTREME CLOSE-UP
Biker’s face as he falls.
BIKER Oh, no!
EXTREME CLOSE-UP
Biker’s POV: Fence’s Kaiser Wilhelm helmet with its long, shiny point, seen from above as we fall on it.
ANGLE ON
Faces of Family and Yuniyoshis, aghast.
ANGLE ON
Full figure of Fence as Biker falls on his head. Fence does not fall. Instead Biker lands with the point in his belly, and splits open and slides down around Fence on all sides like a piece of paper being slapped on a spindle.
Fence, gleaming scarlet with Biker’s blood, stands steady.
ANGLE ON
Yuniyoshi’s husband.
HUSBAND: My god, she impaled him on a fence!
ANGLE ON
Retards succeeding at applauding because this time each’s left hand hits the right of the next Retard, and vice-versa.
ANGLE ON
Family, and Yuniyoshis. They all look up.
ANGLE ON
Triumphant Pam, standing confidently on the Ferris wheel rim with her legs spread, clutching her money-case.
ANGLE ON
Family and Yuniyoishis.
HUSBAND: (Looking down at Biker) Hmmm. (He kneels, takes flier from pocket) I think this is — (He looks at flier)
INSERT
Husband’s hand, holding “Wanted” flier for Biker, showing Biker’s face as we first saw it , bushy— haired , bearded , eye-patch.
ANGLE ON
Husband, still kneeling, flier in one hand, lifts Biker’s head and looks at
EXTREME CLOSE-UP
Biker’s bald, burned, bloody, face.
ANGLE On
Husband
HUSBAND: My god, it’s he.
Husband stands and shouts to Pam.
HUSBAND: Pam ! You’ve won a hundred thousand dollars!
ANGLE ON
Pam, smiling and nodding.
ANGLE ON FAMILY AND YUNIYOSHIS
YUNIYOSHI: What? She got hundred thousand dollar being Rosy Glow girl? That settle it! (She whips out contract and pen) I sign, Pam, I sign!
(She signs frantically)
ANGLE ON
Pam, smiling even more!
LOTTO BOOTH
Electronic sign blinks, “Midnight Lotto! Midnight Lotto!”
CLOSE ON
Brother’s face.
CLOSE ON
Sign, blinking six numbers over and over.
ANGLE ON
Mother and Brother at Lotto booth. She’s deal ing cards on counter, he grabs her and swings her, shouting:
BROTHER: I won seventy-five million dollars!
Pam’s PQV: We see Brother swinging Mother around, faintly we hear him shouting, “I won! I won f””
ANGLE ON
Pam, laughing like a fool and falling backwards into —
THE SEAT ON THE FERRIS WHEEL
— the seat on the Ferris wheel with Kevin. The seat swings crazily. Pam doesn’t mind. With a groan, the wheel starts moving again.
ANGLE ON
Biker’s bike, balanced on the rim of the wheel. It falls —
TRAVEL WITH BIKE
— and falIs —
TRAVEL WITH BIKE
— and falls —
ANGLE ON BROTHER
— and is caught by Brother as he runs joyously through the crowd —
TRAVEL WITH BROTHER
— to reach all the wildly cheering people at the base of the Ferris wheel just as —
ANGLE ON PAM’S FERRIS WHEEL SEAT
— Pam and Kevin reach the ground and she steps out, supporting the still-dazed Kevin, to be mobbed by friends, family, and admirers, in fact most of the cast of the movie, and a flock of parrots, who cry —
PARROTS: You can do anything! You can have everything! Everything is possible!
The Floral Society rushes to place baskets of flowers around Pam and Kevin, everyone is reaching in to shake their hands, flashbulbs flash!
PULL BACK TO REVEAL
In the foreground, just beyond the cheering crowd, Morilla, her casts painted with brilliant flowers, sits on a truck-bed with her battered piano, playing a joyous and triumphant theme.
MORILLA: (Sings) “The moon belongs to everyone; the best things in life are free!”
CROSS-FADE TO
EXT. KEVIN’S HOUSE-NIGHT
Kevin comes out of his house, carrying a suitcase and a guitar. He tosses them into his wagon, checks his watch, and ambles over to Pam’s.
TRAVEL
with Kevin as he comes into the ruins of Pam’s house.
ANGLE ON
Grandmother. She is in a regal satin gown, with diamond necklace, bracelets, and tiara, sitting watching television surrounded by very well-behaved cats and dogs, watching TV also. Dogs and cats all have diamond collars. Grandmother looks up to see Kevin. She greets him with a hand that holds a long diamond cigarette holder.
GRANDMOTHER: Pam’ll be right out, Kevin. Wanna watch some TV?
Kevin ambles over behind her.
CLOSE ON TV SCREEN
An INTERVIEWER is talking with Doc and Fence, both in flawless business suits. Their torture table is in evidence.
INTERVIEWER: So with this machine you can really elevate human intelligence by as much as a hundred I.Q. points?
DOC Faster than one can goose a armadillo.
FENCE: Of course it’ll take millions in government grants to find out just how.
A VIEW of a dilapidated military establishment.
INTERVIEWER’S VOICE; And the abandoned Landfill Military Base will become the site of a new facility for research into electrothereapeutic realignment of human intelligence, revitalizing the failing economy of Landfill.
Back to Interviewer, Fence, and Doc.
INTERVIEWER: I bclieve you have some examples of your handiwork here today?
DOC; Indeed we do. May I present Darlene Nightengale and her former students from the Landfill School for the Rationally Challenged:
ANGLE ON
The Caretaker and Retards, the Retards now bright and perky.
ANGLE ON
DOC: We made ’em all smart.
PAN down the line of former Retards as they speak:
RETARD I: A society is only the sum of its responsible individuals.
RETARD II: Without an educated constituency, democracy degenerates into tyrrany.
RETARD III: The Stock Exchange is a fantasy. The scorekeepers are running the game.
RETARD IV: Wars are only opportunities for profiteers.
RETARD V: The poor should stop having chiIdren they can’t afford to feed.
RETARD VI: We must drop national, racial, and religious divisions, for technology has made the world one.
ANGLE ON
The shocked Interviewer, complacent Fence, and thoughtful Doc.
DOC: Now what are we gonna do with ’em?
ANGLE ON
Grandmother, Kevin, and animals watching TV. Grandmother switches channels with remote control.
TV SCREEN
“Wheel of Fortune.” Father is middle contestant. His prize money read-out says “0.” The other contestants have no read-out at all. The HOST is explaining the game to father.
HOST: I repeat, sir, you must spin the wheel before you guess or you win no money. Now let’s try again.
GAME BOARD with blanks representing letters. Vanna White stands beside it.
HOST’S VOICE: All right, contestants; this puzzle is a rhyme.
The word “Rhyme” appears at the bottom of the screen. CLOSE ON Father
FATHE: “Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker.”
QUICK SHOTS: Applauding audience, irritated face of Host, Vanna rushing to revolve all the letters, Father’s read-out blinking “0”, Father looking happy.
ANGLE ON
Grandmother, Kevin, pets. Grandmother switches channels
again.
TV SCREEN
NEWSCASTER interviewing Brother.
NEWSCASTER: And what will you do with your record—breaking Lotto millions?
BROTHER: I had planned merely to move my family to Florida, but in light of the recent horrendous hurricane there —
QUICK SHOT of ruinous storm.
CLOSE ON
Brother
BROTHER: — I’m gonna buy the whole state for a song!
ANGLE ON
Grandmother, Kevin, and pets. Grandmother switches channels.
TV SCREEN
DONAHUE introducing his talk-show.
DONAHUE: Today we scrutinize a woman who is a member of an increasingly smal1 c1ass: young American females who have not been raped by their fathers.
Close-up of Sister and her three kids, all richly-dressed. She is beaming and the applause is tremendous.
SISTER: I got a million-dollar book deal!!!
ANGLE ON
Mother, playing cards. She wears a rich expensive gown like Grandmother’s, and jewelry.
MOTHER: For God’s sake, Maw, cut that thing off. It’s so proletariat.
ANGLE ON
Grandmother. With a superior sniff, she cuts off the TV. There is now only the light of the finally full moon.
GRANDMOTHER: (to Kevin) Well, I guess you’re waiting for Pam.
KEVIN: Yeah, she promised to do something for me tonight.
GRANDMOTHER: Well, Pam always keeps her word.
KEVIN: (Checking his watch) I wish she’d hurry. l have a schedule, too, you know.
PAM’S VOICE: Yes, well, Pam is taking care of the last item on hers.
KEVIN: (Yells) Hey, what are you, too rich now to keep your promise?
PAM’S VOICE: Hold your horses.
KEVIN: (Yells) I haven’t got any horses ! I have a sick wagon !
PAM’S VOICE: Yeah? Well –
ANGLE ON
Ram; she steps out from behind a standing wall. She is a vision of refined and glamorous loveliness, her enchanting face, figure, gown, hair, and jewelry enhanced by the moon-light, lovelier than any “Rosy Glow” poster—woman.
CLOSE ON Kevin, stunned.
Kevin ‘s POV. Pam walks toward us, chiffon stole flying, like an angel wafting through Heaven. She comes very, very near.
PAM: Well, relax. I’m about to fix your wagon.
CLOSE ON KEVIN
KEVIN: Pam, you’re —
CLOSE ON SMILING PAM
She knows just how good she looks. Her smile is taunting, teasing.
CLOSE ON KEVIN
KEVIN: You’re — you’re —
CLOSE ON PAM
PAM: Yes, I’m – ?
CLOSE ON KEVIN
KEVIN: -not late.
CLOSE ON PAN
She lays first one arm, then the other, around Kevin’s neck.
PAM: No, I’m not. But about this time next month, I ‘d better be.
CLOSE ON KEVIN
He is entranced. CLOSE ON PAM
PAM: It’s on my schedule.
She kisses him a little, a little more, a lot, as much as people can, as we
FADE OUT

screenplay SLAY IT AGAIN, PAM by Robert Patrick Part 1 of 2

SLAY
IT
AGAIN,
PAM
AN ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY
BY
ROBERT PATRICK
C2004
ROBERT PATRICK
#211
1837 N. Alexandria Ave.
L.A. CA 90027
(323) 360-1469
Rbrtptrck@aol.com
FADE IN
EXT. CALIFORNIA ROADSIDE – DAY
A scruffy, desolate landscape by a highway.
CLOSE ON: A sign: “Entering Landfill, California. Population 25,000.”
WIDER: Beside it, a sign, “Home of Landfill Army Base.”
WIDER: A truck pulls up, TWO WORKMEN get out. ONE pulls up the Army Base sign, throws it in bed of the truck. THE OTHER slashes paint through the “25,OOO” and scrawls under it, “4,OOO.”
CLOSE ON: the altered sign, paint dripping, as we HEAR TRUCK leave.
EXT. CALIFORNIA SUPERMARKET-SUNSET
It’s one of those awesome enormous places where you
can buy anything. Pam’s bright heliotrope beat-up pick-up
truck is among the many cars parked in the lot.
INT. SUPERMARKET AISLE-CONTINUOUS
To a background of syrupy MUZAK, A HOUSEWIFE of one race and a GAY GUY of another are chatting with their baskets blocking an aisle. They are among shelves of juices.
HOUSEWIFE: Oh, men are so picky. My Fred won’t eat anything that says “health” on it.
GAY GUY: Oh, Harold won’t either. But he’ll eat anything that says “As seen on tv!”
HOUSEWIFE: Riiiiiiiight.
ANOTHER AISLE
“Jaws”-like menacing MUSIC.
CLOSE ON: A WOMAN’S hand, grubby, chewed nails, no jewelry, speeds along, grabbing twelve-packs of beer off a shelf.
THE FIRST AISLE
MUZAK. A SECOND HOUSEWIFE of a third race is approaching the roadblock caused by the Housewife and Gay Guy.
GAY GUY: I have to pour store—brand items into famous-brand packages, then he loves them.
HOUSEWIFE: Oh, and God forbid he should see a generic carton in the house!
GAY GUY: (Mimics whining husband) “My mother didn’t never buy generic!”
SECOND HOUSEWIFE: (joining them) Yes, like his mother could have kept national brands on the table with today’s prices!
Housewife and Gay Guy agree ad lib,” Oh, I know!” “It’s a recession ! ” “Who can afford to eat?”
ANOTHER AISLE
“Jaws” MUSIC
CLOSE ON: The woman’s hand now speeding past a shelf where it scoops up cat and dog food and kitty litter.
FIRST AISLE
MUZAK. There are now a couple of other Housewives of yet more races in the chattering group, one with a crying baby, the other with a nagging child.
GAY GUY: I use No-Cal Jell-O and celery stumps to make the cheaper cuts of meat attractive.
A NEW HOUSEWIFE: Do you do hair?
ANOTHER AISLE
To “Jaws” MUSIC:
The woman’s hand scoops up baby food.
ANOTHER AISLE
The woman’s hand scoops up baby diapers.
ANOTHER AISLE
The woman’s hand scoops up adult diapers.
ANOTHER AISLE
From a rack of magazines, the woman’s hand grabs “Auto Repair”, “Astrology Today,” and “TV Guide.”
THE FIRST AISLE
MUZAK. The clot of gossipers is smoking, drinking cokes and juice they take off the shelf, one woman is changing a crying baby. “Jaws” MUSIC begins to sneak in.
HOUSEWIFE WITH NAGGING KID: (Whacking kid) No, Mama can’t afford to take you to no County Fair..
ANOTHER HOUSEWIFE: And who has time, anyway?
ANOTHER: Nobody ain’t got no money.
ANOTHER (VERY OLD): It’s the Communists.
GAY GUY: No, there aren’t any Communists any more.
ANOTHER (VERY OLD): Then who is it now, then?
“Jaws” MUSIC reaches a peak and all turn startled to face — ANOTHER ANGLE
— somebody barging at them shoving three loaded shopping carts.
TOUGH FEMALE VOICE BEHIND CARTS: GANGWAY!
ANOTHER ANGLE
POV the cart-pusher: She barges through the shrieking group.
CLOSE ON: Her hand jamming bottles of Gator—Aid onto a cart.
PULL-BACK down aisle. The shattered group stands dazed, looking after the fleeing forceful person.
THE CHECK-OUT COUNTERS Busy, busy MUZAK.
POV the forceful person behind loaded carts. She aims for one check-out counter, but the line is too long. She aims at another but it’s labeled “Ten Items Or Less.” She passes two more crowded ones and enters an unattended one. A display of LOTTO tickets is conspicuous, and a sign, “This week’s Lotto Jackpot, $75,000,000.”
THE UNATTENDED CHECK-OUT COUNTER
POV the forceful person. One of her hands adds cigarettes from a display to her purchases, while her other hand reaches out and picks up the hard—rubber stick used to divide one person’s groceries from another’s on the check—out counter. She bangs it fast and loudly on the counter. We hear:
HER VOICE: Hey! Somebody open up this mother!
THE SUPERMARKET – ANOTHER ANGLE
From her POV, we see a CASHIER rushing to open the counter, other ATTENDANTS to sack. The voice continues:
VOICE: Come on, come on, I can’t afford to dawdle.
The Cashier grabs an item and starts to pass it over the laser-beam in the counter to ring it up.
The forceful person’s hand comes into view holding a calculator.
VOICE; I figured it up. It’s three hundred and thirty eight dollars and seventy—nine cents, including coupons.
Her hands are opening a bright heliotrope case which is full of money in bills.
CLOSE ON: The Cashier’s eyes pop at the sight of the money.
ANOTHER ANGLE
Cashier’s POV. The grubby, neglected hands are dealing out bills and coupons.
ANOTHER ANGLE
KEVIN, a heavenly handsome guy in store uniform, approaches. He laughingly shoves the Cashier aside and passes the items rapidly and expertly over the laser beam to rapid sackers.
KEVIN: (To Cashier) Go ahead. Take her money. She’s always right, Hi, Pam.
ANOTHER ANGLE
PAM, staring at Kevin, drops last of money, exact change, into Cashier’s hand. Pam is a thin young woman who has paid no attention whatsoever to her hair and wears no make-up. She is dressed in sloppy shorts and T-shirt. Rest assured; in the last moment of the film she is going to turn out to be a beauty, but until then she will be as we see her now: a haggard, distracted, and unattractive ball of energy.
PAM: (Dreamy-eyed for a moment) Hi, Kevin.
CLOSE ON: Kevin smiling back at her. MUZAK swells romantically.
CLOSE ON: Pam momentarily in a romantic daze.
INSERT:
Cashier rings up her payment with a sharp, loud CHING!
At the CHING! Pam snaps to, and yells at Sackers.
PAM; It’s the barely-breathing heliotrope pick-up. Hustle it up. I’ve —
KEVIN/SACKERS; (Jokingly speaking the familiar refrain in chorus) — got a schedule.
Some Sackers start carrying groceries out.
KEVIN: (Laughing, working, teasing) Yeah, Pam, we know. Hey! Am I on your schedule?
The Sackers laugh. Pam reacts with anger.
PAM: (To Sackers) Shut your holes! (To Kevin) Yes, I’m goin’ to tune your wagon.
Sackers go “ooooooooo!” like Merv Griffin. Kevin laughs.
PAM: (Waving “Auto Repairs” Magazine) 7:36 p.m. Monday. Right. It’s on my schedule.
KEVIN: (Finished registering her purchases) Right. Now how many lottery tickets?
(He starts peeling them off of board)
PAM: Seventy-five.
KEVIN: (Jamming tickets into validating machine)Your Daddy is blotto, your brother plays Lotto! (He says this playfully, not maliciously)
PAM: (Counting last of seventy—five dollars into his hand) – and seventy-five! (She takes tickets and starts away)
KEVIN: Hey!
PAM: (Turns, impatient) What? I wanna stay on schedule.
KEVIN:You forgot to buy any food.
PAM: Food!
MUZAK ends.
CUT TO:
INT. PAM’S TRUCK AT FAST FOOD DRIVE-THROUGH WINDOW-NIGHT
Country—Western Rock MUSIC from inside fast—food joint.
Full figure of Pam seated at wheel. Pam is dragging through the window and stacking on the floor a mountain of take-out food bags at the same time she counts cash out of her bright heliotrope plastic case, whose open flap conceals the side facing us.
FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: There you are, enough fried chicken to stuff Central Europe. That’ll be—
PAM: (Handing money over) There it is. Gimme a receipt. And hurry. I’m on a schedule.
FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE; (Ringing cash, getting receipt) What choo so rushed for? What choo do?
CLOSE ON: POV Fast Food Employee: Pam’s haggard, plain face.
PAM; (Taking receipt and handing employee a card) I’m in glamour.
Inside truck, Pam jams receipt into case, flips lid over case, revealing —
CLOSE ON: — bright cheery logo on side of case: Rosy Glow Cosmetics. A stylish woman’s silhouette, utterly different from poor Pam, is part of the logo.
OUTSIDE TRUCK- PASSENGER’S SIDE.
Logo is on truck door, too. Bed of truck is loaded with the goods she bought in previous scene. Pam pulls out with a roar, leaving Employee looking at card blankly.
EMPLOYEE: (Reading card) “Good for complimentary facial.” Complimentary. Well, ain’t they all supposed to be?
INT. TRUCK – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS
Country-Western Rock MUSIC now on soundtrack, a lonely, lonely strain. Pam drives along through an anonymous generic California small town. Her calculator beeps.
INSERT:
Pam’s calculator. Readout says, “Call Yuniyoshi.”
WIDER. With one hand, Pam whips a cellular phone from her shorts pocket, dials, and we cut to —
INT. YUNIYOSHI’S HOME-NIGHT-CONTINUOUS
A mobile—home, cheaply furnished. Many goldfish in many bowls. YUNIYOSHI, a Japanese woman in a cheap wrapper, answers phone. We see only one side of her face.
YUNIYOSHI: Yes, hello?
We CUT back and forth from the truck to the mobile home during the following conversation:
PAM: Yuniyoshi? It’s Pam. I called to see if you’d made a decision about becoming a Rosy Glow dealer.
YUNIYOSHI; Oh, Miss Pam-san, I no know. I thinking my husband he no like me.
She turns and we see a plum-like black eye.
PAM; But you know I need your decision this weekend, Yuniyoshi. If I get one more dealer by Sunday night, I win the hundred-thousand dollar grand prize for most active consultant.
YUNIYOSHI: I no can say, Miss Pam. Oh, I have to get hung up! I hear husband coming!
PAM; But, Yuniyoshi, if you’ll sign up to deal Rosy Glow, you won’t be dependent on your husband anymore.
YUNIYOSHI: (As her trailer shakes) Oh, he shake trailer. I got to go hide me!
She hangs up.
PAM: But Yuniyoshi, Rosy Glow is woman’s road to independence…
She hangs up, sighs in frustration. EXT. ROAD-NIGHT-CONTINUOUS
Pam’s heliotrope truck glides along alone through a degraded suburban area.
EXT. PAM’S HOME – NIGHT
A suburban dump among other suburban dumps. No one on streets. The garage door yawns open. Pam’s truck pulls into it. The door starts closing.
MUSIC ends.
INT. PAM’S HOME – KITCHEN/LIVING ROOM – NIGHT
NOISE: A hell of crying babies, squabbling cats and dogs, and television music.
ANGLE ON
The door which leads from the garage into the living-room. Dogs and cats attack it as Pam kicks it open. She carries enormous bags of groceries and fast food and, always, her heliotrope case slung over her shoulder. She kicks angrily at cats and dogs, screaming:
PAM; I’m home! Somebody help me! I’m home! I’m home !
WIDER: The kitchen, which features a dining table, and the living-room are separated only by a low divider. Tacky worn suburban frumpishness. Pam’s MOTHER, a bloated toad, sits at the kitchen table dealing herself solitaire. Pam’s FATHER, a sodden pig, sits at the table swilling beer. He is talking to UNCLE DOC, a skinny drunk, who is trying to teach him to read. Pam’s SISTER, a pregnant slattern, sits on the living-room sofa with three yowling kids, one black, one Hispanic, and one Asian. Pam’s BROTHER, a stupid giant, stands at the kitchen counter with the icebox open, eating. Pam’s GRANDMOTHER, an angry crone, staggers about using a walker and chain-smoking. The television is blasting orchestral music and applause. There is a beauty pageant on. Dogs and cats run through, barking and screeching. Everybody looks vaguely toward Pam.
CLOSE ON: Sister, who yells
SISTER; Shut up, Pam; it’s the Miss Family Values Pageant!
CLOSE ON: TV SCREEN
Inane smiling girls in vulgar formals parade around a stage.
BROTHER: (Sniffs) Hey, food!
He runs to grab bags from Pam, who looks dispiritedly at the lot of them and turns to go get more bags from the garage.
CROSS FADE TO: A SERIES OF BRIEF SHOTS from Pam’s POV, all accompanied by background TV, animal, and baby RACKET:
(1) Mother, as fast food is held out to her.
MOTHER: (Dealing cards) Just put it down, Pam. Can’t cha see I’m almost winning’?
(2) Father, smiling and belching as Pam loads more beer into
a cooler beside him.
FATHER: Uncle Doc is teachin’ me how to read. Then I can get on “Wheel of Fortune!” (Holds up a page full of scrawled obscenities) Look, it says, “Shit.” I can read, “Shit.” Haw! “Shit, shit, shit!”
(3) Dogs and cats practically tearing food out of her hands.
(4) Grandmother as cigarettes are held out to her.
GRANDMOTHER; Well, what do you want me to do, take those’? Put ’em in my pocket, I’m a cripple!
(5) Brother, stuffing food into his face as Pam’s busy
figure dashes back and forth in front of him.
(6) Sister, breast-feeding one baby, kicking another, and
spooning food out of a jar into another baby.
SISTER: I bet you forgot my astrology magazine, you never think of me!
The astrology magazine hits her as Pam throws it.
SISTER: Oh, you made me miss Miss Canoga Park! (She cries)
ANOTHER ANGLE – THE TABLE
Pam sinks exhausted into the remaining free chair, swigs a tremendous draught of Gator Aid.
WIDER: The already messy rooms are now awash in fast-food litter. Grandmother is trying to light a cigarette, falls forward bent over her walker-bar to do it. Brother moves through the litter of bags and wrappers and grabs the TV remote control from a baby.
BROTHER:Let’s see what else is on.
SISTER: No, don’t!
Brother clicks the remote and we see
THE TV SCREEN, clicking from channel to channel:
(1) The Miss Family Values Pageant.
AN AGING HOST:This is a pageant of America today!
(2) A newscast
A background shot of beggars waiting in line in snow.
A PLASTIC BLOND FEMALE COMMENTATOR: Massive unemployment.
(3) Another newscast
A PLASTIC HISPANIC MALE COMMENTATOR: Threats of war.
(4) A stand up comedy show
A TALL BLACK FEMALE COMIC: The ever popular race riots. (audience laughter)
(5) A sit—com
A FAT LOWER-CLASS WHITE WOMAN; Ain’t there no recess from the recession? (audience laughter)
(6) A commercial for Jamaica
A SHOUTING STEEL-DRUM PLAYER: Get away from eet all!
(7) A learned panel
AN AGED ACADEMIC: No escape from starvation.
(8) A protest march
A RAVING PROTESTOR: Universal pollution!
(9) A shampoo commercial
A stunning woman tosses perfect hair like a rearing horse.
A SOOTHING WOMAN’S VOICE; Beautiful, seductive, expensive you!
(10) A talk show
A WEEPING TRANSVESTITE: Social intolerance! (Boos)
(11) A newscast with two anchorpersons
A PERT ASIAN FEMALE NEWSCASTER: Political scandal! Tom?
A HEARTY MIDDLE-EASTERN MALE NEWSCASTER: Thanks, Beverly. Hideous natural disaster.
(12) A newscast
A mug shot of a bloated bearded one-eyed Biker.
NEWSCASTER’S VOICE: Theft and Arson!
(13) A black sit-corn
A LOONEY BLACK TEEN-AGER: Real ring-a-ding rap revenge! (Laughter)
(14) A newscast
Another mug shot of biker.
NEWSCASTER’S VOICE: Check-forging and mail-fraud.
(15) A ROCK CONCERT
A GRIMACING PRANCING SINGER: I wanna live like the rich-rich-rich and faaaaamous!
(16) A newscast
Another mug shot of the Biker
NEWSCASTER’S VOICE: Kidnapping and blackmail!
(17) A game show
PLASTIC HOST & HOSTESS: Wealth beyond your wildest dreams!
(Music and cheers)
(18) A newscast. Another mug shot of Biker.
NEWSCASTER’S VOICE: Rape and murder!
(19) A car commercial
Incredibly leggy woman and man slinking out of low-slung cars.
ANNOUNCER’S VOICE: Why settle for anything less? America’s most-desired car.
(20) A true-crime show
Huge face of biker.
GRIM ANNOUNCER’S VOICE: America’s most-wanted criminal.
(21) A religious show
A WILD-EYED FUNDAMENTALIST PREACHER: Hellfire and brimstone and the end of the world! (Cries of “Amen!” and “Hallelujah!)
(22) A game show
Flashing images of boats, cars, fashions, jewelry, tropical paradises, etc.
ANNOUNCER’S VOICE: All this can be yours! Beauty, luxury, sensual ecstasy, if you’re one of the lucky ones, you can have this abundance of treasure and frivolity, all without work or effort! Just sit by your phone and wait and, who knows, this may be your lucky day!
After Announcer says, “All this can be yours,” his VOICE continues as we cut to:
THE LIVING-ROOM INCLUDING SOFA AND KITCHEN TABLE
Brother standing by couch clicking remote and chortling, Sister on sofa with babies, Grandmother inching through litter. Mother, Father, Uncle Doc, and Pam at kitchen table.
SISTER: (To Brother) You put that back onto my pageant!
She rises, dropping babies, and grabs remote from Brother, knocking down Grandmother in process. Animals romp. She clicks remote.
TV SCREEN: The beauty pageant
AGING HOST: Celebrating America’s family values! (Cheers and music)
PAM: (Screams) This place is an insane asylum for pigs!
MOTHER: Well, you don’t think I can pick it up. You know I have occupational repetition syndrome. Uncle Doc here is going to court to swear I can’t do no tiresome repeated movements.
She is, of course, expertly dealing out cards.
MOTHER: Whew! Dealing dries out my fingertips. Uncle Doc, hand me that Rosy Glow moisturizer mouse.
PAM: Mousse.
Uncle Doc shakily hands her a vial from the room-divider.
MOTHER:Don’t call me things. I’m not well. I have occupational repetition syndrome.
Mother carefully, and of course repetitiously, creams her fingertips, as —
WIDER: — Pam begins picking up Grandmother and garbage.
BROTHER (To Mother); Yeah, you saw a medicinal report about it on TV and the next day you got it!
SISTER (To Mother): When you win your lawsuit against the turkey-packing factory, you’ll have millions, and what do I get for bearing soldiers’ children?
FATHER: Nothing if you don’t marry none of ’em! (Cackles with laughter)
MOTHER: When the air force base closed, the whole economy here got deflated — (With a ribald leer at Sister’s stomach) — except for you!
Mother, Brother, Doc, and Father laugh.
FATHER: For you! 4 U, right? (He holds up paper reading “4 u”)
UNCLE DOC (To Sister): You should of let me abort ’em all for you! (His shaky hand spills beer)
SISTER: No, they might of changed the law while you was doin’ it and my kids would be bastards or whatever they call ’em.
BROTHER: You’re so dumb. “Festuses” is what they call ’em, “festuses.”
SISTER: You’re the fester! You’re the one that should have been aborted.
MOTHET: I tried! (Points at Uncle Doc) blame your Father’s brother.
UNCLE DOC: (Raises shaky hand to swear) I did my very best!
BROTHER: Well, I got birth-defect brain disability and I don’t get nothing for it.
UNCLE DOC: You don’t get nothing, period!
SISTER (To Mother): It ain’t fair just you gettin’ a disease that pays that well.
PAM: Mother, you’re not going to get any money; the turkey factory moved to Guatemala.
FATHER: Hell, she don’t need to get nothing! I’ll get me on a million-dollars quiz show once your Uncle Doc here finishes teaching me how to read. (Holds up scrawled piece of paper, upside down) Look, this says “Whore!” See’? I can read “Whore!”
BROTHER: (Waving a handful of lottery tickets) We’ll see if my lottery tickets win me any of them millions tonight. We’ll be on easy street.
SISTER: Not until after my Miss Family Values Pageant we won’t.
FATHER: (Waving paper reading “E Z”) Easy! E-Z, right, Doc, right?
GRANDMOTHER (Waving the TV Guide): I want to watch the home shopping!
SISTER: No, the TV is all I got!
FATHER: TV! T-V. Right, Uncle Doc?
PAM: You know, sister, you could get welfare, you could get food stamps if you wanted to.
SISTER: No, I wouldn’t have nobody to mind the babies. You could, but you got your precious schedule.
PAM: Sis, I’ll hire you a baby-sitter so you can go sign up.
SISTER: No, they’re all perverts and mole-sters, I seen it on Hugh Downs!
PAM: I bought you some self-esteem tapes. Maybe they’d help you some.
SISTER: They ain’t nothing wrong with my self!
Blare of MUSIC from TV
SISTER: Oh, Look, somebody won!
FATHEE: Won! 1, right? (Holds up paper reading “1.”
SCREEN OF TV: The winning GIRL is paraded up to the camera. She is thin, with great teeth, and never blinks.
GIRL: Oh, I just don’t know what to say. This is the culmination of all my dreams. Dreams … I’ve been having funny dreams. But this is better than anything I ever dreamed. Dreamed .. I dreamed—
We see the faces of Pam’s family, all rapt on the screen except Grandmother, who is leafing through the TV GUIDE frantically with one hand, the other of course holding her up.
GIRL: Well, what does it matter what I dreamed? I’m Miss Family Values and I — Oh, my God, I remember now. It wasn’t a dream. It’s a memory. I must have suppressed it. Oh, it’s all coming back to me! I remember my father raped me repeatedly between the ages of three and fifteen. Oh!
She wobbles, about to faint. Another GIRL runs up to catch her.
SECOND GIRL: Oh, gracious, how horrible. She said she remembered-Oh, Lord, I remember, too. It happened to me, too. Oh, no!
Pam’s family is glassy—eyed.

OTHER GIRLS start to scream and faint all over the pageant stage.
GIRLS: (Variously) Oh, my lands! Me, too. It happened to me. He forced me! I didn’t want to! He threatened me! I was only three! Only two! I was one! It happened again last night, I just remembered. Holy smokes, that must be what Daddy was doing to me all those years!
The pageant stage is in chaos. Cut to commercial.
A beautiful woman in diaphanous veils dances across a dewy field.
VOICE OVER: When a modern woman is pregnant, she comes in for a lot of intimate attention. So you want to smell your very best. So why not use Pregaroma, the pregnancy test that’s also a delicately-scented feminine deodorant?….
THE LIVING ROOM/KITCHEN
WIDE. As the music from the ad continues, Pam’s calculator beeps. She sighs. Unnoticed, she hefts her heliotrope money bag and wearily trudges off to bed.
PAM: (Ignored by all) Well, I got work to do. And a schedule to keep.
GRANDMOTHER; What you sneakin’ away for! You got to give me my permanent!
PAM: (Without pausing) Sunday, Grandmother. 3:24 p.m. In the basement. It’s on my schedule.
She exits.
CLOSE ON: Sister, staring intently at the TV.
SISTER: Why, I’ll bet all them girls can sue their fathers for millions! Oh, Father, why didn’t you ever molest me?
MOTHER Ain’t it bad enough what he done to me?
BROTHER: What did Father do to you?
MOTHET: You.
SISTER: You know, I think he did. Yes, I remember, he did. Uncle Doc, Father raped me repetitiously from the ages of five to fifteen.
UNCLE DOC: Oh, you weren’t even around when he was five to fi fteen.
SISTER: But he did, I remember it! Father, I’m going to sue you.
FATHER:You! U? (He scrawls on paper and holds up a letter “U”) You, right?
SISTER: You raped and mole-sted me. I’ll be on Donahue! I’ll take you to court.
UNCLE DOC: See here, sister, that’s a pretty lucrative charge. But what if they give him a lie detector test?
SISTER: Well, what if?
UNCLE DOC: If he didn’t do it, that’ll show on the lie detector.
SISTER: Well, can’t you make him remember he did it? Ain’t you got nothin’ you can give ‘im? You’re a doctor! I heared of truth cereals. Ain’t they a lie cereal?
UNCLE DOC: Hmmmm. I do have an old shock treatment machine I bought from a fence.
SISTER: Oh, let’s do it. Nothin’ ever happens in this dull town.
UNCLE DOC: Well, since they legalized abortion, I do have a lot of time on my hands.
He holds up a trembling claw.
SISTER: Oh, Uncle Doc, you’re wonderful. We’ll be rich.
BROTHER: You’re crazy!
SISTER: I’m rubber and you’re glue. Everything you say bounces off me and sticks on you!
BROTHER: Oh, boy! Money, money, money!
MOTHER: You’re all crazy! Father ain’t got any money!
SISTER: He will have when Uncle Doc gets through teachin’ him to read, they said on the TV about how literate people makes more money! Oh, I’ll show Pam she ain’t the only one here can make money. I’ll show her okay.
FATHER: Okay! O.K. Right? (He holds up a paper reading “K.O.”)
GRANDMOTHER: I wanna watch Bill Cosby sing “White Christmas!”
Brother wanders away from the lot of them.
INT. PAM’S HOME-HALLWAY-NIGHT-CONTINUOUS
Pam wearily drags her bag to her bedroom door, sets it down, takes a key out of her pocket, all the time kicking dogs and cats away. The noise from the living—room grows dim. Brother comes softly up behind her.
BROTHER: Boo, Pam!
PAM: (Kicks him to no effect) Brother, don’t ever do that again! I told you! (Picks up her money bag and clutches it to her) What do you want?
BROTHER: They’re all going to get rich in there. I want to, too.
PAM: Touch my money bag and I’ll do that mean thing to your little finger again.
BROTHER: (Hides his hands) Oh, no, don’t! I just want to make money on the lottery.
PAM: I’m not buying you any more tickets this week. I got a schedule.
BROTHER: No, you don’t have to. I’m going to learn how to win.
PAM: Yeah, how?
BROTHER: I’m going to take Lotto lessons.
PAM: Lotto what?
BROTHER: They’s a guy openin’ a Lotto lessons class behind the high school and he said I could come for fifteen dollars.
PAM: Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the lord my soul to keep, take it, lord, it’s yours.
BROTHER: So can I have some fifteen dollars out of your little bag, Pam?
He looks helpless and appealing.
PAM: Oh, yes, I guess. (She gives him money from bag) You’re the only one of them that isn’t your own fault. Now go away and let me get back on schedule.
BROTHER: Thank you, Pam. I’ll get real rich and you can give away your schedule.
He starts to walk away counting his money
BROTHER: I saw on TV how much the money is this week. It said seventy-five o ! —o ! —o !-o !-o ! —o !
INT. PAM’S HOUSE-PAM’S ROOM-NIGHT-CONTINUOUS
Pam’s room is a miracle of putty and pale heliotrope – and of order. Meticulously arranged stocks of Rosy Glow cosmetics line trim shelves. This is the disciplined, delicate person at the center of Pam’s agitated soul.
Conspicuous are framed glamour portraits of idealized models, all bearing the “Rosy Glow” logo.
Pam enters wearily and closes and locks the door, shoving a dog or two away. She drops her bag. She sits on a couch and lets herself sag.
PAM: I hate this couch!
The beeper sounds.
INSERT: The calculator readout: “Try Yuniyoshi again.”
Pam sets up, takes out her cellular phone, dials.
PAM: Yuniyoshi? Don’t hang up. Yuniyoshi?
She sighs and replaces the phone. From closets and shelves, she starts taking out equipment she will need for a “glamour show” (i.e., to give several women complimentary facials: shower caps, smocks, cosmetics, etc.) and packing them efficiently in a case.
ANOTHER ANGLE
The window of her room. A hand appears and — scratches teasingly.
PAM: (Startled) What’s that?
Kevin’s angelic face appears at the window.
KEVIN: Boogerman.
PAM: Go ‘way. You aren’t on my schedule.
She continues working. Kevin shoves the screen aside and crawls in.
KEVIN: You need any help?
PAM: You a lobootomist?
KEVIN: Just the boy next door.
PAM: You I don’t need.
KEVIN: Can’t wait for you to come fix my wagon.
PAM: 7:36 p.m. Monday.
KEVIN: Then I can get out of this stupid town.
PAM: Right.
KEVIN: Ain’t nothin’ here for a guy like me. (Examining glamour photos) Ain’t no beautiful woman here gonna pay no attention to a poor boy like me.
PAM: Ain’t nothin’ here for anyone.
KEVIN: I’m going to Los Angeles and get into TV commercials. Why don’t you get out?
PAM: I got my family to look after.
KEVIN: You ought to look after ’em from the window of a Greyhound Bus!
PAM: Nope. I’m gonna get me enough money to buy them the kind of house they deserve.
KEVIN: One with bars on the windows?
PAM: They didn’t make themselves as awful as they are. They couldn’t have. Nobody that was making themselves would make themselves so stupid and selfish and ignorant. It’s got to be their environment that makes them so dreadful. I’m gonna give them a better environment. I’m gonna buy them a house in Florida. It’s beautiful, it’s sunshiny, it’s cultured –
KEVIN: And it’s far away.
PAM: That, too. But to do that —
KEVIN: You got to stay on schedule. I know. I’ll go. (He starts to climb out the window.) You ought to fix this window. Since the recession, there’s all kinds of crime.
PAM: (As she picks up her cellular phone and dials) It’s on my schedule. Hello, Yuniyoshi. Goodbye, Kevin.
He sadly leaves as she speaks to Yuniyoshi.
PAM: Yuniyoshi? I need to talk to you….Well, hit him with the telephone!….Why don’t you call a cop? Oh, right, I forgot, he is a cop. Well, why don’t you call a minister? Yuniyoshi? Darn.
She hangs up, keeps working. Her calculator beeps.
INSERT: Close-up, calculator. It reads, “Glamour Show, Mary-Joanne’s House, Saturday, 8:OO a.m., God Help Me.”
Pam throws herself down on sofa, draws a coverlet over her.
PAM: I hate ….. this couch!
She clicks light out.
EXT. MARY JOANNE’S HOUSE-DAY
A distressingly cute home in a better area, covered with roses, little dutch girls of wood in the front lawn with pinwheels attached, etc. Several expensive cars parked outside, plus Pam’s heliotrope pick-up. Her old couch is conspicuous in her truck—bed.
INT. MARY JOANNE’S HOUSE-PARLOR-DAY-CONTINUOUS
SOUND: Throughout the sequence in Mary Joanne’s house, a TELEVISION SET is going in the background. We occasionally glimpse the blurry screen in the background.
Mary Joanne’s house is a mass of knick-knacks, frills, what-nots, ruffles. Five white women are seated in chairs, their hair protected by heliotrope shower caps, heliotrope sheets tied around their necks to shield their clothes. Heliotrope vinyl is spread under their chairs to save the floor. Pam, in heliotrope snood and smock, is moving among them, plastering heliotrope mud on their faces and talking.
PAM: Just try to hold your faces still while the beauty mask congeals, women.
FIRST WOMAN: So we’re moving to Retirementville in February. This town is dying.
SECOND WOMAN: This town is dead!
THIRD WOMAN: I hear they’ve installed metal detectors in all the schools.
FOURTH WOMAN: How come the scum always has money for guns?
FIFTH WOMAN: They don’t. They steal them!
All WOMEN laugh.
MARY JOANNE enters, trailing her telephone. She, too, is in sheet, cap, and mud.
MARY JOANNE (Into phone): So it looks as if this will be the last County Fair. I mean, after we all move, what will there be for them to have a fair about?
FIRST WOMAN: Just cows and corn!
SECOND WOMAN: Not even that! The freeze and the drought have just destroyed local agriculture!
MARY JOANNE: (Into phone) So we better ladies have to put on a terrific flower show. After all, it’s the last! (She hangs up) Pam, how long do I have to keep this pudding on my face?
PAM: Just long enough to get you all tightened up for your Rosy Glow make-overs. (Under her breath) Say, ten thousand years.
MARY JOANNE: (Pulls her cap away from her ear) What, Pam?
PAM: Just till you hear a ringing sound in your ears.
MARY JOANNE: (Seating herself) Oh.
CLOSE ON: Pam as she slathers extra mud on Mary Joanne.
CROSSFADE TO: SAME-AN HOUR LATER
All ladies are lined up at a table before individual illuminated mirrors which have a regular mirror on one side and an extreme enlarging glass on the other. Pam moves from one to the other, doing “make-overs” on their faces & hair.
FIRST WOMAN: So what do you intend to do to me’?
PAM: What do you want to look like?
FIRST WOMAN: I want my husband to notice me more!
PAM: Then we’ll do you in warm, inviting colors.
As Pam begins to apply paint with brush,
CROSSfADE TO: First woman looking absurdly sluttish, but smiling with satisfaction into a mirror.
Pam is working on second woman.
SECOND WOMAN: I want my husband to leave me alone.
PAM: Then we’ll go for a somewhat colder palate.
As Pam goes to work on her,
CROSSFADE TO: Second Woman looking with satisfaction at a metallically hard face in her mirror.
WIDER: The women are all in their own clothes, out of their heliotrope gear. Pam, still in smock and snood, is almost all packed up, and all the women are complimenting each other on their new looks. They don’t look ridiculous; Pam is good at what she does.
Although they’re complimenting each other, they are all looking at themselves in the little mirrors held in their hands now.
THIRD WOMAN (To First Woman): Oh, you look just gorgeous, dear. How do I look?
FIRST WOMAN: (Looking at herself) You never looked better, darling.
SECOND WOMAN: You do such lovely work, Pam.
FOURTH WOMAN: It must be so satisfying for you.
PAM: Yes. Yes, it is. I don’t suppose any of you ladies would be interested to become Rosy Glow dealers?
The Women laugh.
MARY JOANNE: (Also preening in a mirror) Oh, no, dear, that’s only for the poor and the coloreds.
Pam pries the mirrors out of their unwilling hands.
PAM: Thank you all, ladies. And we all want to thank Mary Joanne—
CLOSE ON: Mary Joanne, done up to a “T. ”
PAM: –our hostess for this Rosy Glow glamour show,
for making us feel at home. As a gift to thank
her for having us, I want to present her with
this combination reducing, enlarging, and
brutally realistic Rosy Glow glamour mirror.
She pops one of the mirrors into a heliotrope drawstring bag with “Rosy Glow” emblazoned on it and hands it to Mary Joanne.
THIRD WOMAN: Oh, I want one of those, too.
FIFTH WOMAN: Me, too, me, too.
PAM: Well, I can take care of that –
She adroitly pops open a large case of cosmetic supplies.
PAM: – and if you’d like to acquire a supply of the
very cosmetics which I used on you today to
achieve these fabulous new looks, I can help you
with that, too. So you can keep your husbands –
CLOSE ON: The two ladies who had such different desires concerning their husbands.
BACK TO:
PAM: — right where you want them.
The ladies converge on the case. Pam smiles.
PAM: Cash only, ladies, cash only.
CROSSFADE TO:
EXT. MARY-JOANNE’S HOUSE-DAY-A LITTLE LATER.
The glamorized ladies are leaving with their arms full of cosmetic bundles.
INT. MARY JOANNE’S HOUSE-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Pam is placing a last box of cosmetics on a huge pile on Mary Joanne’s table. The little mirror in a heliotrope bag conspicuously marked “Rosy Glow” is prominent.
PAM: – and a giant-size Miracle Moisturizer Mask
comes to— (She checks her trusty calculator) – one hundred and eleven dollars and seventy eight cents.
MARY JOANNE: (She picks up her purse) That’s fine, dear. I’ll write you a check.
PAM: Oh, no. You know I only take cash.
She is indeed neatening handfuls of cash from her sales to the other ladies and placing it in her money-bag.
MARY JOANNE: But I don’t keep that kind of money in the house.
PAM: And I don’t keep no bank account. Banks is goin’ bust all over everywhere.
She starts to take back the bag containing Mary Joanne’s prize mirror.
MARY JOANNE: (Taking bag) No, I love that little mirror! Oh, well, all right. Follow me to the bank and I’ll get you your money. (She slings mirror—bag on her wrist)
PAM: Okey-doke!
Pam whips off her smock and snood. She’s in the same bedraggled hair and T-shirt and shorts.
MARY JOANNE: (Taking car keys from her bag) Pam, why don’t you ever take the time to glamorize yourself?
PAM: (Shouldering her cosmetics case and money-bag) It ain’t on my schedule yet!
As they leave the house, Mary Joanne swinging bag with mirror in it, we pull in on the TV, where the Biker’s face looms ever-larger.
ANNOUNCER’S VOICE: —is known to be at large in the Landfill area and is considered extremely dangerous.
CROSS FADE TO: BIKER’S face, filling the screen.
BIKER: Don’t give me none of that. I know it’s worth more than that!
PULL BACK to reveal:
EXT. BANK PARKING LOT-BEHIND A SIGN-DAY
BIKER, a hulking Hell’s Angel type with bushy hair and beard and an eyepatch, is behind a sign in a parking-lot with FENCE, a bone-skinny biker in scraggly “Mad Max” military gear. Their bikes are beside them, vicious machines. Behind them, we see the top of Pam’s heliotrope pickup, the body of the truck hidden by another car. Biker is thrusting at Fence one of those electronic devices with which one can eavesdrop on cellular phone conversations.
BIKER: Fence, with this little doohickey you can listen in on cellular phone conversations and tell where stores keep their money and when rich people are away. It’s worth a fortune, I tell you.
FENCE: It’s worth forty-five bucks at an Radio Shack outlet. I’ll give you seventy—five cents for it.
BIKER: You know I’m on the lam! I need cash! You’re taking advantage of me!
FENCE: Sorry, Biker. Can’t help you today. But call me anytime you got something real to fence.
Fence straps on his helmet, a Prussian military type with a long metal spike sticking up from the top.
FENCE: (Hopping onto his bike) Hope they don’t catch you, Biker. You been a good source of revenue to me.
Fence roars away. ANOTHER ANGLE
From in front of the sign, we see that it says, “Landfill Bank. Friendly Service. Cars Towed.” We can see Biker behind the sign, seething with anger, holding the eavesdropper.
Behind the sign again. Biker growls with frustration.
BIKER: I gotta find somethin’. I gotta get some cash!
He punches the eavesdropper-machine on and dials it through some bleeping, squawking frequencies. It settles on:
PAM’S VOICE: But Yuniyoshi, you got to sign up. It’s the only way out for you, and it’s a hundred thousand dollars for me!
CLOSE ON: Biker’s interested face.
PAM’S VOICE: Rosy Glow can make you a big success. Why, right now, I’m here at the Landfill Bank —
Biker brightens.
EXT. LANDFILL BANK PARKING LOT-DAY-CONTINUOUS
PAN: From in front of the sign, Biker visible behind sign, practically dancing with glee, to the door of the Bank.
INT. LANDFILL BANK-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Mary Joanne, her mirror-bag dangling, is getting cash from a TELLER. Pam, beside her, is on the cellular phone.
PAM: (Voice continuous under above shot) – getting yet more cash to put in the bag of fresh green money I always carry with me. Do you know how much I have on me at any given moment, Yuniyoshi? I have at this very moment seventeen thousand, six hundred and thirty-two dollars and change in my bag proudly marked “Rosy Glow!”
EXT. BANK PARKING LOT-DAY-CONTINUOUS
We are in front of the sign. Behind it, we can see Biker’s arms waving as he does indeed dance with glee.
INT. BANK-DAY-CONTINUOUS
PAM: (Voice continuous) Now I’m going to leave here right now –
Mary Joanne disdainfully hands Pam money.
PAM: (With a “thank you” nod to Mary Joanne) – and come over there and talk some sense into you. We got just thirty-six hours to sign you up.
EXT. BANK PARKING LOT-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Behind the sign, Biker hooks the eavesdropper onto his belt and takes from his belt a billy-club and a knife, ready to fall on his prey.
POV BIKER: Mary Joanne emerges from the bank.
CLOSE ON: Rosy Glow cosmetics bag in Mary Joanne’s hand.
BEHIND THE SIGN: Biker starts to step forward.
POV BIKER: The bank guard, with conspicuous gun in holster, escorts Mary Joanne to her huge, expensive car.
CLOSE ON: Biker, frustrated yet again.
INT. BANK-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Pam is leaving bank, but delayed by handing every woman she passes a business card.
PAM: Complimentary Rosy Glow facial and make-over. Complimentary Rosy Glow facial and make-over.
EXT. BANK-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Wide view of parking lot. WE SEE that the bank is on the “main thoroughfare” of the town, i.e., single-story businesses are spread far apart for miles and miles, with lots of greenery in between. There are also shopping-centers of various sizes, many with “Closed” signs in the windows of shops.
The bank guard tips his hat to Mary Joanne and closes her
Car door.
INSERT:
Mary Joanne’s hand starts her car and turns on radio.
MUSIC: Mary Joanne’s car radio plays innocuous orchestral music, Hundred and One Strings stuff.
EXT. BANK PARKING LOT-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Mary Joanne pulls out and turns right on the “main artery.”
EXT. VERY WIDE VIEW OF PARKING LOT-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Biker behind sign mounts his bike. Mary Joanne is pulling away. The guard is going back inside the bank, holds the door for Pam who is emerging from bank. Pam goes to her truck as Biker pulls out to follow Mary Joanne, all to syrupy string MUSIC.
INT. MARY JOANNE’S CAR-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Mary Joanne hangs her mirror bag from her rear-view mirror.
NOTE: All Pam’s phone conversations are heard by Biker on the “eavesdropper” on his belt. It flashes red when “on.”
INT. PAM’S TRUCK-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Pam, on cellular phone, turns right out of the parking-lot.
PAM: (0n cellular phone) Mrs. Carstairs? Pam of Rosy Glow. I will be at your house with your order of Rosy Glow Cosmetics at precisely 12.15.
EXT. STREET-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Biker following Mary Joanne on his bike, eavesdropper blink ing.
PAM’S VOICE: (Over eavesdropper) Please have twenty-two dollars and forty-eight cents ready in cash.
CLOSE ON: Biker, speeding along “Main Street”, licks his lips.
INT. MARY JOANNE’S CAR-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Mary Joanne drives past many closed stores Syrupy MUSIC.
EXT. MAIN STREET-DAY-CONTINUOUS
VERY WIDE TRACKING SHOT as Biker doggedly pursues Mary Joanne.
INT. MARY JOANNE’S CAR-DAY-CONTINUOUS
The Rosy Glow bag dangles tantalizingly in his vision from Mary Joanne’s rear-view mirror.
INT. PAM’S TRUCK-DAY-CONTINUOUS
PAM: (on cellular phone) Better Days Used Furniture Shop? Mrs. Gonzales? I will be at your door at precisely 12:25. Please have nineteen dollars and fifteen cents in cash ready for me.
EXT. STREETS-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Mary Joanne turns right at a major intersection. Biker starts to follow her, but a cop car leaving a fast-food place screeches to a halt blocking him at the intersection.
CLOSE ON: Biker’s startled face.
CLOSE ON: Black Cop’s disoriented face as he and Biker stare straight at each other. The Cop picks up his phone.
WIDER: Biker dodges around Cop, and guns for the next intersection, looking back frantically expecting to be followed by the Cop.
INT. POLICE CAR-DAY-CONTINUOUS
The Black Cop, YUNIYOSHI’S HUSBAND, is on his earphone.
HUSBAND: Yuniyoshi? The phone’s been busy! Who were you talking to?
INT. YUNIYOSHI’S TRAILER-DAY-CONTINUOUS
YUNIYOSHI: (In her trailer) Oh, you too jealous, too possessive! Leave me alone!
INT. COP CAR-DAY-CONTINUOUS
HUSBAND: You’re seein’ someone! I felt it just as I bit into my taco!
INT. YUNIYOSHI’S TRAILER-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Yuniyoshi hangs up her phone.
INT. COP CAR-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Husband hangs up and guns away, ignoring Biker.
EXT. STREET-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Biker at next street, wheels, halts, peeks through bushes—
POV of Biker: — cop heading away.
ANGLE ON
Biker
BIKER: Huh?
Biker turns around to head back for the intersection.
INT. YUNIYOSHI’S TRAILER-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Yuniyoshi’s phone rings again.
YUNIYOSHI: Oh, no, my nerves!
INT. MARY JOANNE’S CAR-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Mary Joanne has left main street for a relatively deserted area with signs reading “To Fair Grounds.”
INT. PAM’S TRUCK-DAY-CONTINUOUS
PAM: (On cellular phone) I’ll be there at 12:45, Yuniyoshi. Please at least talk to me through the door.
She hangs up and phone rings.
PAM: (Answering phone) Rosy Glow… You want to make an order?’
EXT. STREETS-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Very wide shot from above, Mary Joanne speeding away down the lane, Biker coming down the “Main Street”, about to turn left to follow her.
INT. PAM’S TRUCK-DAY-CONTINUOUS
PAM: (On cellular phone) You need it now? I’ll fit it into my schedule. I’ll have to take a short cut.
EXT. STREETS-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Very wide view of intersection. On the “Main Street,” Biker is turning left as Pam approaches the corner with the fast-food stand. Beside and behind it is a huge vacant lot. Pam leaves the road and diagonally crosses the vacant lot behind the fast-food joint rather than turning the corner which Mary Joanne has just turned and Biker is about to, putting Pam ahead of the Biker between him and Mary Joanne. All three are still quite far apart.
They are now on a lonely stretch of country road. Biker makes his move to pass Pam and get to Mary Joanne
INT. PAM’S TRUCK-DAY-CONTINUOUS
PAM: (On cellular phone) Wait for me, Yuniyoshi. I got to go. There’s some crazed biker behind me. ‘Bye. (Hangs up)
EXT. ROAD-DAY
Biker tries to pass Pam.
POV of Biker: As we weave back and forth trying to pass Pam’s truck (Rosy Glow logo not visible) we see glimpses of the tempting car of Mary Joanne.
INSERT
POV of Biker: the tempting Rosy Glow bag hanging from Mary Joanne’s mirror.
INT. PAM’S TRUCK-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Pam, getting miffed, refuses to be passed. Instead, she passes Mary Joanne.
INT. MARY JOANNE’S CAR-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Mary Joanne sees the “Rosy Glow” logo on the door of Pam’s pick—up beside her and grabs her mirror bag off the rear—view mirror for safekeeping.
MARY JOANNE: Oh, no, you’re not getting this back!
Pam moves in front of her.
EXT. ROAD-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Traveling with Biker on the right side of Mary Joanne’s car. Biker slips a mailed glove onto his left hand.
POV of Biker: Mary Joanne, whistling in her car, turns her head to the right and sees –
POV of Mary Joanne: Biker’s hideous face at her window, traveling with her.
CLOSE ON: Mary Joanne screams.
EXT. ROAD-DAY-CONTINUOUS
CLOSE ON: Biker, even with Mary Joanne on her right, lashes his bike to the door—handle of her car, and smashes her window with a mail—gloved fist.
POV Mary Joanne: The shattering window and Biker’s mailed hand clawing for her bag.
CLOSE ON: Mary Joanne screaming, flailing at Biker’s hand with the bag, steering wildly.
INTERCUT WITH:
CLOSE ON: Biker’s hand, slapping at Mary Joanne in between grabbing for the flailing bag.
INTERCUT WITH: EXT. ROAD-DAY-CONTINUOUS
WIDE FROM ABOVE: Mary Joanne’s car with Biker’s bike lashed to it veering wildly on the road, behind Pam’s truck.
END INTERCUT INT. MARY JOANNE’S CAR-DAY-CONTINUOUS
CLOSE ON: Biker gets the bag in his grip.
EXT. ROAD-DAY-CONTINUOUS
CLOSE ON: Biker releases the lash.
EXT. THE ROAD-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Behind Mary Joanne’s car. Biker takes off across plowed fields.
INT. PAM’S TRUCK-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Pam sees this in her rear—view mirror, can’t believe it, wipes the mirror, believes it, and—
EXT. ROAD-DAY-CONTINUOUS
WIDE FROM ABOVE:
— spins about in the road. Mary Joanne almost runs into her, but veers wildly to the left as Pam turns to her own left and pursues Biker across the field.
INT. PAM’S TRUCK-DAY-CONTINUOUS
PAM: You’re puttin’ me off schedule!
EXT. FIELD-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Biker bounds across a farmer’s field.
CLOSE ON: Biker, riding along waving the Rosy Glow bag and
laughing. Suddenly he looks startled.
POV Biker: A tall stone wall ahead of him.
CLOSE ON: Biker, turning on a dime.
CLOSE ON: Biker’s face, even more startled.
POV Biker: Pam’s truck headed right for him.
WIDE: He runs smack into the truck and flies through the air, landing on a tractor. No human being could survive such an accident.
INT. PAM’S TRUCK-DAY-CONTINUOUS
PAM: I don’t need this!
She wheels the truck around.
EXT. FIELD-DAY-CONTINUOUS
VERY WIDE: Pam wheels about and screeches to a mud-splattering halt beside Boker. She hops out of the truck, checks his vital signs. Emphasize emptiness and isolation of field.
CLOSER ON: Pam kneeling by Biker’s body.
PAM: Dear God, now I got to report a traffic death. That’s days in court!
She sits in the mud, angry and frustrated. She glances at —
POV Pam: — the couch in the back of her truck.
CLOSE ON: Pam’s face, glancing back to body. Back to truck…
CROSS FADE TO:
EXT. BETTER DAYS USED FURNITURE SHOP-DAY
A tired-looking storefront in the sleepy, one—story downtown district of Landfill. On both sides are other businesses with big signs in their windows, “Closed.” Pam’s muddy, battered truck is parked in front. The couch is not in it.
INT. BETTER DAYS SHOP-DAY-CONTINUOUS
A sad room full of used furniture. The tired, dumpy PROPRIETOR of the place, a middle-aged loser in a cheap housedress, is counting out soiled bills to Pam.
PROPRIETOR: …oh, I only got five dollars after all.
PAM: That’s all right. That’s plenty. In fact that’s too much.
PROPRIETOR: Pam. You? Giving up money? What’s the matter?
ANOTHER ANGLE
Emphasising the sofa, with a bulge the size of Biker’s body.
PAM:I’m in a hurry. I’m not sure I want to part with it. It’s broken. You can’t open it. Don’t try. I might even come back later and buy it back from you. But I can’t talk now.
WIDER ANGLE: Pam is leaving the shop, headed for the curb.
PAM: I’m off schedule!
EXT. BETTER DAYS SHOP-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Pam emerges, hops into her truck. Tosses Proprietor a business card.
PAM: Here! Have a complimentary facial. See ya.
She is already dialing her cellular phone.
PAM: Bye!
Pam guns her motor, and drives away.
The Proprietor is left in the doorway, blinking at the complimentary facial card in the sunlight. She turns and enters her shop.
INT. BETTER DAYS SHOP-DAY-CONTINUOUS
ANGLE with sofa in foreground, entrance in background. The proprietor passes the sofa and tosses the card onto the sofa.
CLOSER ON: Sofa, as card slides slowly down into a crack in the cushions.
FADE OUT.

FADE IN.
EXT. YUNIYOSHI’S MOBILE HOME – DAY
A ghastly slum of mobile homes, most with “For Sale” signs. The yards are full of junk, perhaps even chickens. There is a junked Volkswagen and a sprung mattress, etc. Yuniyoshi’s trailer-house is especially ramshackle. Pam’s pick-up pulls up before the mobile home. Pam hops out, runs to stoop, snaps her fingers, runs back to pick-up, re-emerges with money bag on one shoulder and cosmetic bag on other, goes to stoop, knocks. Her knocking makes the whole structure rock.
NARROWER:
Pam on stoop. Knocks. No answer. Knocks. No answer. Takes out cellular phone.
PAM: (On phone) Yuniyoshi? If you’re conscious, I got to speak-to you.
YUNIYOSHI’S VOICE: Go ‘way. I no open door.
PAM: (On phone) Aw, come on, Yuniyoshi. This is opportunity knock in’ !
YUNIYOSHI’S VOICE: My husband come back, bring gun, blow us both to moon.
PAM: (On phone) Now be sensible, Yuniyoshi. I won’t let him hurt you.
We hear locks being undone. The door slightly swings open. Pam leaps in.
INT. YUNIYOSHI’S MOBILE HOME-DAY-CONTINUOUS
A dump, with bowls of goldfish prominent. As Pam leaps in, the trailer rocks causing her to drop the cellular phone.
INSERT: Cellular phone on floor, still blinking.
Throughout the scene, every move Yuniyoshi and Pam make causes it to rock.
YUNIYOSHI: (Closing door, fastening many locks) Get in fast. I think he have spies.
PAM: Yuniyoshi, let’s talk about some way to get you out of this mess. Rosy Glow has given
millions of women their own business, their own money, pride and independence. Women everywhere are eager to have quality cosmetics delivered to their door, saving their time and enhancing their natural beauty. If you’ll just sign this-
She produces a contract and pen from her case.
YUNIYOSHI: What it say?
PAM: Huh? It says, “I, Yuniyoshi Jefferson, of eight-Oh-nine Orchid View Terraces” —
INSERT: Phone on floor, still blinking.
PAM: Oh, you can read it later. Just sign it and give me two hundred dollars for your starter case of cosmetics, and you can in no time be your own woman, a free and modern liberated American—
The trailer gives a big jump, flinging them both to the opposite end, causing goldfish bowls to slide. Pam goes on undaunted.
PAM: — person of value and confidence, enabled to command your own destiny and face the future unafraid—The trailer gives another jump in the opposite direction and they fly to the other end of the space. Pam automatically catches a falling goldfish bowl and hands it to Yuniyoshi.
PAM: What is going on?
YUNIYOSHI: Nothing. Just ignore it. Sometime he go away. What you saying?
PAM: (Takes goldfish, hands Yuniyoshi pen) I said you gotta sign this so I can get my folks to Florida.
YUNIYOSHI: I no know. I not know if it ladylike to go door to door selling shameful face paint.
House jumps again. Yuniyoshi gets up, grabs shotgun, opens door, jams it in face of black policeman on stoop. He ducks just in time to avoid the blast as Yuniyoshi fires it.
As he runs away:
YUNIYOSHI: Get gone stay gone, Pus-dripping excrement of corpulent octopus!
She closes door, replaces gun, and returns to same petulant tone to say:
YUNIYOSHI: I no think selling face-paint right for lady.
PAM: (No reaction to violence) Well, of course it is. I do it all the time, and whi could be more ladylike?
Pam is in her usual sloppy gear and messy hair, without make-up, and might not be anybody’s idea of a glamour girl.
YUNIYOSHI: I no know. You no look like lady. You look like pig-slut.
The trailer-house jumps warningly.
YUNIYOSHI: (Leaps to door, shouts) You want more gun in fat face? (She returns to debate with Pam)
PAM: Oh, don’t be fooled by me, Yuniyoshi; I’m just too busy for all that. Let me show you my make-over book, and how I’ve succeeded in bringing beauty and allure to housewives who felt romance had departed their lives.
She opens money-bag.
PAM: Woops, wrong bag!
Yuniyoshi’s eyes pop at the sight of the money.
YUNIYOSHI: You make all those money selling face-paints’?
PAM: Huh? You bet! You like that? Look at it, Yuniyoshi: gorgeous green gleaming American money! A whole bag full of it!
YUNIYOSHI: Ooooooh, I could get eyes fixed to look like Julia Roberts! Maybe I sign!
PAM: Hallelujah!
The trailer-house rises in the air and crashes down cataclysmically. Goldfish fly.
YUNIYOSHI: (Grabbing gun) That too much!
She flings open door and Biker, filthy, bloody, and with wobbling sofa-springs bouncing all over him, lunges into the trailer-house. The eavesdropper is on his belt, red light on.
CUT TO:
INT. BETTER DAYS SHOP-DAY-CONTINUOUS
The Proprietor sits tied-up and gagged beside Pam’s sofa, out of which a very large Biker has obviously burst.
CUT TO:
INT. YUNIYOSHI’S TRAILER-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Biker throws Yuniyoshi over his shoulder effortlessly, out of the house.
BIKER: Gimme all that money!
He goes for Pam’s money-case.
PAM: No, you don’t. Gimme that! Let go of that!
BIKER: (Simultaneously) Yes, I do. Let go of that! Gimme that dough!
He shoves her away with his foot and has the money-case. He laughs triumphantly, and — reaches into the case, pulls out the little drawstring bag with the mirror in it, throws the money—case down, and flees with the little bag with the mirror in it, laughing.
BIKER: I got it! I got it! Haw! Haw! Haw!
EXT. YUNIYOSHI’S TRAILER-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Biker leaps out of the trailer onto his incredibly battered bike, patched together with tape and sticks. Pam appears in doorway. Yuniyoshi is on the hood of the abandoned Volkswagen where she has landed, just getting to her feet. She raises gun.
YUNIYOSHI: Stop! Fish-killer!
He drives right toward her, and, just as she shoots gun, he drives up back of junked Volkswagen and over her, landing on a sprung mattress.
BIKER: Hee-haw!
He drives away, his bike now also wobbling with mattress springs.
Yuniyoshi is spinning deliriously on the car hood, firing at random.
Pam looks at her money bag, picks up some loose money that fell, shakes her head in bewilderment.
PAM: Some kind of crazy transvestite looking for a cosmetic mirror.
EXT. HIGHWAY-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Biker is speeding along, laughing like a fool. He opens bag, sees mirror. Laughs. Returns mirror to bag. Screeches to a halt. Takes mirror our again. Looks in it like a monkey, scratching the top of his head with one finger. Suddenly he smacks himself on the forehead, making springs wobble.
INSERT:
PAM’s money-bag on floor of trailer.
EXT. HIGHWAY-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Biker turns and starts back to trailer-camp.
INT. TRAILER-DAY-CONTINUOUS
The same shot of Pam’s money-bag. She picks it up, closes it, steps out.
EXT. TRAILER-DAY-CONTINUOUS
PAM approaches the gibbering, shaken Yuniyoshi.
PAM: (Offering contract and goldfish, which she thinks is a pen) So, Yuniyoshi, have you decided to sign for your future?
YUNIYOSHI: (Looks at goldfish in her hand) Aiyeeeeee! I kill you! I kill you all!
VERY WIDE
Yuniyoshi starts to run berserk with the gun. Her HUSBAND, the black cop, pulls up in his squad car, steps out.
HUSBAND: I saw him! You are seein’ other men! I knew it !
Pam shrugs, reaches inside trailer to retrieve her cellular phone, and heads for her truck.
Yuniyoshi sees Husband and starts shooting at him. He hops in car and speeds off, siren and red light going.
HUSBAND: (Yells) I should of left you to rot in Nagasaki!
Yuniyoshi pursues him with gun and fish.
PAM: (Yells) Yuniyoshi, I’ll be back. I’m not letting you miss this opportunity!
She dials her cellular phone as she gets into truck.
INT. TRUCK-DAY-CONTINUOUS
PAM: (On phone) Grandmother?
INT. PAM’S HOME-DAY-CONTINUOUS
GRANDMOTHER: (Into phone) What? What? What? I’m all alone.
INT. TRUCK-DAY-CONTINUOUS
PAM: (Into phone) I’m comin’ to give you your home permanent. I’ll be there in thirty—five minutes exactly. Be in the basement all set up and ready.
EXT. HIGHWAY-DAY-CONTINUOUS
INSERT:
Eavesdropper on Biker’s belt, red light blinking.
PAM’S VOICE ON EAVESDROPPER: I got to get back on schedule. See you at home.
WIDER:
Biker is listening on eavesdropper as he drives furiously along.
BIKER: Home. Home. Where’s home?
INSERT:
Pam’s business card, flapping in the wind on the end of one of his springs.
CLOSE ON:
Biker as he notices card. He reaches for it and it blows away.
WIDER:
He chases card on bike through field and stream.
INT. PAM’S TRUCK-DAY-CONTINUOUS
She is speeding along, trying to make a call on cellular phone.
PAM: Hello, donut shop? Hello, hello? Darn, goldfish shorted it!
EXT. SHOPPING CENTER-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Establishing shot: a dreary roadside mini—mall, with cars in front of only one store, the first.
PAN ACROSS: Fronts of the line of stores. First the busy one: “Porn and Violence Videotapes, Twenty-Four hours” Then a string of dark, abandoned stores: “Family Videos. Closed.” “Fred’s Bookstore. Closed.” “Carver’s Second-Hand Books. Closed. “Pablo’s Third-Hand Books. Closed.” “Muhammed’s Really Used Books. Closed.” Finally: “Doc’s Old Books And Folk Medicine. By Appointment Only. Closed.” In the depths of the last shop, there is a flickering light.
INT. DOC’S SHOP-DAY-CONTINUOUS.
A squalid, dusty, dark interior, with tottering shelves of ancient paperbacks. There is a bright, flickering light from a back room.
INT. DOC’S SHOP-BACKROOM-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Doc, holding beer, has Father stretched out on a table, electrodes attached to him. Doc is mechanically flicking a switch sending shocks through Father. Father screams with each jolt.
Sister is standing by with the usual three babies howling and wh in ing.
SISTER: Come on, we got to hurry. I got to get home to see “The Young and the Wrestlers.” Make him confess he mole-sted me!
DOC: Come on, little brother, ‘fess up! This electric bill is going to kill me!
FATHER: (As jolts flow through him) Cat! K-A-T! Aggggggh! Dawg. D-Aw-G! Helllip! I’ll work harder, don’t torture me! Eeeek! Whore! H-Ore! Yaaaaaa.
Doc, mechanically alternating swigs of beer with pulls at the lever, gets absent-minded and sucks at the lever and pours beer on Father. With the next jolt, Father lights up like Disneyland and screams to high heaven. The lights go out.
DOC: (In the dark) They cut off my lights! What chance has a poor man?
EXT. DONUT SHOP-DAY-CONTINUOUS
on a
A formica storefront horror with hand-painted signs window, grotesque depictions of ice—cream cones and glazed donut. Pam’s truck parked outside.
INT. DONUT SHOP-DAY-CONTINUOUS
MUSIC: Cambodian rock twangs irritatingly in background.
Formica glare, buzzing with flies. Posters of Cambodia and posters for “Lotto, Lotto, Lotto,” and “Landfill County Fair!” CODGERS, including Pam’s Mother, as always playing solitaire, sit at tables nursing coffee and swatting flies. Pam is in line at counter behind bloated, gaping, genderless RETARDS, all holding onto little wooden rings on a rope, accompanied by their CARETAKER. Pam is waiting impatiently for service from CAMBODIAN SALESWOMAN.
SALESWOMAN: (To Retard) I know no what you say. What you say? (To Caretaker) What he say?
CARETAKER; Oh, no, we’re trying to train them to be more self-reliant. Give your own order, Lena.
LENA (RETARD): Ayah wahn a squeegee un. (“I want a squishy one.”)
SALESWOMAN: I no know? What “Ayah wahn a squeegee un?” In my country that mean, “You a fat pig!”
CARETAKER: (To retard) Again, Lena, dear. Ignore the bigot. (To another Retard) Abner, don’t swallow that quarter dear.
Pam shifts from foot to foot as this scene repeats behind her. She glances at Mother’s table, where Mother sits among other Codgers, all in baseball hats, T-shirts, and jogging clothes, one with earphone radio.
CODGER WITH EARPHONES: Rush says they ain’t no jobs.
ANOTHER CODGER WITH NEWSPAPER: They’s a recession and they ain’t gonna be no jobs.
ANOTHER: They ain’t gonna be no jobs never again.
FIRST CODGER: No jobs.
SECOND CODGER: Never.
THIRD CODGER: Ever.
MOTHER: Yeah, why don’t them lazy welfare bums get jobs?
Even other Codgers react with shock to this non sequitir.
CARETAKER: (Screams at Cambodian) A squishy one, you idiot! She says she wants a squishy one! Can’t you speak English?
CAMBODIAN SALESWOMAN: (To Pam) What you want, Pam? I no serve these foreigners.
As Pam and Saleswoman talk, Caretaker gathers Retards and walks off in a huff with string of Retards.
PAM: Oh, thank god! I want twenty dozen mixed cake and raised for my Rosy Glow Dealers Sales Achievement Awards Banquet tonight.
SALESWOMAN: Huh?
PAM: Twenty dozen mixed, deliver to Woman’s Club.
SALESWOMAN: You betcha!
EXT. DONUT SHOP-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Pam exits and hops in her truck. Caretaker and Retards are picketing with signs, “Unfair to Challenged,” getting horribly mixed—up in their rope. Pam pulls out.
EXT. PAM’S HOME-DAY-CONTINUOUS INT. PAM’S HOME-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Brother is on his knees on the floor with a giant ugly green candle which he is trying to light with a Bic—type lighter. Grandmother is clumping about with her walker, one arm full of a bag of beauty supplies.
GRANDMOTHER: Where’s my lighter”? Where’s my missing-children lighter?
BROTHER: Just a minute Grandmother. I got to light my lucky Lotto magic money-sucking candle. (He gets it lit)
GRANDMOTHER: (Leaning over her walker to grab lighter) Gimme that! That’s my memorial missing-chiIdren lighter! It has a missing child on it! I can’t carry around a milk carton! I got to get to the basement to get set up for my Rosy Glow home beautifying permanent!
BROTHER: Yes, Grandmother.
The candle is starting to smoke alarmingly.
BROTHER: (Chants) Gooey, Phooey, balderdash; easy living unearned cash !
GRANDMOTHER: (As she starts down basement stairs) You didn’t get it from my side! My people was always Presbyterians!
There is a dreadful crash and screams as she falls down stairs. Dogs merrily bark and rush to see. Brother pays it no attention and continues chanting and salaaming to his smoking candle.
EXT. TROPHY SHOP – DAY – CONTINUOUS
A corner store across the street from Better Days. The only working store on its side of the block. LANDFALL TROPHY AND AWARDS SHOP. Lots of cars parked in front. Pam’s truck parked at side of Trophy Shop, not visible from better Days.
INT. TROPHY SHOP-DAY-CONTINUOUS
A wild array of T-shirts with logos, banners with logos, coffee-cups with logos, etc. Quite a mob at the counter, including Caretaker and Retards. Pam waits impatiently at rear.
A CUSTOMER: I want twenty—five T-shirts that say, “best bowlers in the drought area!”
ANOTHER OF ANOTHER RACE: I want sixty—two coffee—cups saying, “best welfare office in the world!”
ANOTHER OF ANOTHER RACE: I want seventy—eight sashes saying, “dental receptionists against gang violence!”
ANOTHER (EAST INDIAN): Where’s my banner saying, “keep Landfill Baptist?”
Pam checks her calculator for time and expresses impatience. She grabs a passing INDIFFERENT SALESMAN.
PAM: I just wanna pick up all my Rosy Glow Achievement Awards.
SALESMAN: Wait cha turn. We been swamped ever since Barbara Walters told ’em there was a recession. Givin’ each other awards builds their self-esteem.
CARETAKER OF RETARDS: I want ten fully washable T-shirts that say, “I talk good!”
Pam sighs in exasperation.
EXT. TROPHY SHOP-DAY-CONTINUOUS
PAN ACROSS STREET TO:
EXT. BETTER DAYS-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Biker’s bizarre bike is parked outside. Some SLEAZOID TEENS are admiring it.
TEEN: Cool tool.
ANOTHER OF ANOTHER RACE: Boss bike.
ANOTHER OF ANOTHER RACE: Quantum Heap.
INT. BETTER DAYS-DAY-CONTINUOUS
CLOSE ON:
Pam’s incredibly sprung sofa, out of which Biker obviously popped.
PULL BACK TO REVEAL:
Biker with knife to throat of Proprietor. On tip of knife is Pam’s business card.
BIKER: Read it, I say. Read it to me.
PROPRIETOR: (Choking, incoherent) Unghty-unght ungthy-unght unghty-unght.
BIKER: Don’t fool around with me.
PROPRIETOR (Points urgently at her throat)
BIKER: No, I don’t want your necklace. Read me the card !
INT. TROPHY SHOP-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Pam is fighting her way to the counter through a brawling crowd.
A WHITE CUSTOMER: I want twenty trophies shaped like the Buddha for my meditation class.
EAST INDIAN BAPTIST: No! Blasphemy! Blasphemy!
A riot ensues.
ANOTHER ANGLE:
As Pam fights her way to counter, We see through the window Biker gunning off on his motorcycle.
PAM: (At counter, to clerk, Gay Guy from grocery) I need my trophies!
GAY GUY: Wait in line.
PAM: (Whipping out card) Look, I’ll give you a complimentary Rosy Glow facial.
GAY GUY: (Taking card, delighted) Oh, they’re good!
PAM: Deliver my prizes to the Woman’s Club. It’s at
GAY GUY: I know where it is. Done! (Plucks another card from her hand) Can I have two?
A CUSTOMER: What’s that?
The mob turns on Pam, grabbing cards.
ANOTHER: Something free?
ANOTHER: I want some.
ANOTHER: Gimme some!
RETARDS: Free! Free! Free!
Pam throws cards into the air and escapes as the mob totals the shop fighting over the cards.
EXT. TROPHY SHOP-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Riot continues inside shop. Pam slips into her truck. The three TEENAGERS are seen lying on the sidewalk, dazed. Proprietor of Better Days is standing in door of her shop, shrieking. Pam barrels away.
EXT. HIGHWAY TO PAM’S HOUSE-DAY
Pam’s truck barreling along.
INT. PAM’S HOUSE-LIVING-ROOM/KITCHEN-DAY
Smoke from Brother’s candle fills the air. Pam pops through the door and fans her way to basement stairs, coughing.
INT. PAM’S HOUSE-BASEMENT-DAY-CONTINUOUS
A crowded, dark hole. Pam runs down stairs into basement. Smoke is not evident after top of stairs.
ANOTHER ANGLE:
In the middle of the floor a card-table is set up with materials for a home permanent. Grandmother sits in a chair with a heliotrope sheet over her. Behind her is a bin full of garbage in Hefty-Bags. Grandmother is smoking a cigarette in each hand.
GRANDMOTHER: Well, it’s about time. I didn’t have nothin’ to do but smoke.
PAM: (Grabs cigs and stifles them) Grandmother, you know this hair stuff is flammable!
She picks up hairspray and takes Grandmother’s lighter away from her.
GRANDMOTHER: I wanna smoke! What else have I got?
PAM: Don’t give me no fuss. I gotta stay on schedule.
Biker erupts out of garbage bin, knocking Grandmother over, diving in an arc straight for Pam’s money-bag. He lands on the floor in front of her. The springs that extend from him bounce him right back over Grandmother and into the garbage bin. Grandmother pulls herself upright just as he bounces right back out, knocking her over the card table. The bouncing effect makes it look as if he’s fucking her doggy-style.
PAM: (Screams) Brother!
INT. PAM’S HOUSE-LIVING ROOM-DAY-CONTINUOUS
BROTHER: (Kneeling in clouds) Yes, lords of luck? Yes, oh fates of fortune?
INT. PAM’S HOUSE-BASEMENT-DAY-CONTINUOUS
Biker has Grandmother clasped to him. She is shrieking non-stop. He has his knife to her throat.
BIKER: All right, lady. Hand over that money or I’ll slit the old hag like a catfish!

screenplay THE WAY WE WAR by Robert Patrick Part 3 of 3

VERY WIDE

The helicopter takes off from the ruins of the hut. Soldiers CHEER as it rises.

FOLLOW HELICOPTER

as it buzzes away over the mysterious jungle.

CUT TO:

INT./EXT. THE HELICOPTER – DAY – CONTINUOUS

THE CABIN

Chiang stands at the PILOT’S side, speaking into a microphone.

CHIANG

…Because I say so! Have one

hundred thousand dollars American

at the heliport in a money belt.

And make no mistakes!

THE COMPARTMENT

Two GUARDS hold guns at ready, their eyes on

TONY AND MELANIE

bound together, Tony’s gun at Melanie’s head.

CLOSE ON TONY AND MELANIE

Tony leans over to whisper to Melanie.

BIG CLOSE UP

Tony’s lips at Melanie’s ear. Despite HELICOPTER NOISE, WE HEAR:

TONY

Don’t worry, baby. No harm is

going to come to you. Tony’s here.

BIG CLOSE UP

Melanie’s can’t believe what she’s hearing. She looks at —

MELANIE’S POV/A GUARD

–reacting to Melanie’s expression. Guard starts to raise his gun at Tony.

MELANIE

shakes her head, “No.”

GUARD

lowers gun with head-nod of obeisance.

MELANIE

MELANIE

Thank you, Tony. I feel so

safe with you.

TONY

nods with a “damn right you do” air.

MELANIE

cuddles close to Tony, smiles at her secret thoughts.

CUT TO:

EXT. SKY OVER JUNGLE – DAY – CONTINUOUS

The helicopter wings its way….to what?

FADE OUT.EXT. ESTABLISHING ANK-VAR – (LATER THAT) DAY

Ancient city in forbidding hills. Not devastated like Thain, but overgrown. You’d think it a dead city, if not for —

EXT. ESTABLISHING ANK-VAR HELIPORT – DAY – CONTINUOUS

— the heliport (sheds, a radio shack), with CROWD of SOLDIERS and CITIZENS of all races. All wear the armband. Crowd stares at sky. In b.g., high speaker’s stand with TV CAMERAMEN, OFFICIALS, A BAND, and a vast Oriental insignia banner.

CLOSER ON CROWD

A Citizen points at sky and SCREAMS. All look up, CHEER.

ANGLE ON SKY

The helicopter appears overhead, turns to reveal Oriental insignia.

VARIOUS ANGLES ON HELIPORT

Excited Crowd mobs helipad. Soldiers hold Crowd back.

ANGLE ON HELICOPTER

Chiang hangs out of door, waves.

ANGLE ON CROWD

Crowd goes crazy at sight of Chiang. BAND MUSIC blares.

CLOSE ON HELICOPTER DOOR

Tony and Melanie stand behind Chiang. Chiang waves at Crowd.

TONY

Don’t make any false moves.

CHIANG

You see far too many movies.

ANGLE ON HELIPAD

Helicopter lands. Tony steps back farther into helicopter. Chiang steps out. Crowd CHEERS. Twenty-one gun SALUTE.

ANGLE ON CROWD

closest to helicopter. A SOLDIER comes through crowd to helicopter, holding a money-belt, hands it to Chiang.

HELICOPTER

Chiang hands belt in to Tony.

CHIANG

Here’s your money. Go home.

TONY

Count it, Melanie.

Chiang sighs. Melanie riffles through money, nods at Tony.

TONY (cont’d)

Okay, put it on me.

CHIANG

Oh, really.

MELANIE

No, it’s all right.

She puts belt on Tony. It’s not easy; she’s tied to his wrist.

TONY

Okay. Now, we’ll want a car.

MELANIE

For God’s sake, Tony!

Melanie pulls free easily, dangles belt. Tony gapes.

MELANIE (Cont’d)

Campfire Girls. Slip-knot.

(to Guards)

Let him alone. He’s harmless.

TONY

Genuinely stung.

BACK TO SCENE

Melanie takes guns from Tony, hands them to Guards in helicopter.

MELANIE (Cont’d)

Tony. You have your values. I have

mine. If I promise never to step on

your jokes, will you get out of my way

so I can make a big entrance?

Tony, baffled, stands free of Melanie. She shakes out her hair, takes off her Rebel jacket, accepts a fresh jacket with Oriental insignia from Guard, moistens her lips, and nods at Chiang.

WIDE ANGLE ON HELICOPTER

among crowd. Guards hop out, flank the door. Chiang comes out, offers hand to Melanie. Melanie takes it, emerges, radiating beauty and dignity. Guards FIRE honorific VOLLEY in air. Crowd goes “OOOOOOOOOOH!” Tony in helicopter doorway is startled.

TONY’S POV.PAST MELANIE’S HEAD

The Crowd, and in b.g. the speakers’ platform where three TV cameras with Oriental insignia swing. Melanie starts forward, lets go of Chiang’s hand. The Crowd parts before Melanie like the Red Sea. It’s impressive.

FOLLOW MELANIE

through the awed Crowd, Chiang a little behind her. The Crowd flings flower petals. People reach out hands to brush Melanie. She touches hands, accepts numerous bouquets on her way to

STEPS OF SPEAKERS’ STAND

where Dignitaries and Officers of all races await Melanie. She mounts stairs. Chiang takes his (central) place among Dignitaries.

AT HELICOPTER DOOR

Tony stands ignored. A Guard comes to Tony.

GUARD

Chiang says give you anything you want.

TONY

I wanna watch.

Guard pulls up sleeve to reveal several watches. Tony grimaces.

SPEAKERS’ STAND

Melanie stands, a goddess, waiting for CHEERS to die down. WE SEE a TV camera moving into place to get good front angle on Melanie.

TONY

looks up at that camera, then back down to

ANGLE BESIDE SPEAKERS’ STAND

where another camera maneuvers for left profile shots, and

OTHER SIDE OF SPEAKERS’ STAND

where another camera works to catch her right profile.

TONY

ponders the trouble they’re going to. But he’s distracted as

MELANIE

begins to speak, as often as possible looking at Tony.

MELANIE

People of Ank-Var. People of the

Resistance Forces. People of Thain.

People of all nations, and —

(directed at Tony)

— people whom the curse of war has

left without a nation, without a

name, without a belief in anything.

TONY

if he was not in love before, is now. He turns to watch

THE ENRAPTURED CROWD

buying everything said by

MELANIE

MELANIE (cont’d)

I come from America, the country where

a new hope of freedom was born into the

world. I come here today to call for an

end to war, this war and all war!

Look at the devastation behind me! War

has done this. And who makes war? The

existence of nations! That makes war! The

Thainians, the English, the French, the

Dutch, the Resistance, the Rebels, the

Communists, the Chinese — every division

of the human race invites fear and war.

That is why we have come here, we citizens

born into a hundred races and nations and

religions we did not choose. We have chosen to begin a new world, one world.

There are those who profit from war, or so

they believe. But who profits from

war? Who wants it? Who needs it? Do the real Thainians, Chinese, French, Dutch,

Americans profit from war? No! The poor

countries suffer immediate devastation and

death and despair. But even the rich

countries suffer in unendurable guilt and

anxiety and eternal, unendurable distrust!

War ravishes everyone! War ruins the lives

of everyone! Fear is a disease that threatens everyone! Restricts everyone! I could not come here freely and openly, because the pitiable fear-crazed rulers of every nation have made that impossible!

THE TV CAMERAS

tightly focus on

MELANIE

MELANIE (Cont’d)

The world is our home! America is not my country. Thainia is not your country. Humanity is humanity’s country! One country, one world, can never again make war! Who wants war? Who wants fear? Oh, people of America! People of Thainia! People of the world! Stand up together with me against fear! The possibility of peace is here, now, in a world already united by airplanes and satellites! One world! Who wants one world? Who wants it? Who wants it now?

VARIOUS SHOTS OF THE CROWD

SHOUTING “We want it! We want it! Now! Now! Now!”

MELANIE

half-exhausted by the effort of her speech, but reinvigorated by the Crowd’s reaction, turns and keeps her attention on

TONY

who looks back at Melanie with no irony for once, but also sees

CHIANG

behind Melanie, checking with each of

THE THREE CAMERAMEN

who in turn give Chiang a high-sign and extract the cassettes from their cameras, toss them to

TV TECHNICIAN

who catches them and hops on a motorcycle with Oriental insignia and “TV” on it, and drives away toward the city.

TONY

looks back at the adoring face of

MELANIE

on the dais, accepting thanks of dignitaries, but still watching

TONY

who watches Melanie right back as we

CROSS_DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. THE HELIPORT – (THAT) NIGHT

Crowd is gone. COOLIES clear carpet and petals. TV TECHNICIANS stow equipment in trucks marked with ORIENTAL SYMBOL AND “TV.” Soldiers ready helicopter in b.g. Melanie, Chiang, Dignitaries, and ESCORT of motorcycles stand by a limousine, Tony by helicopter.

MELANIE

chats with Dignitaries by limousine. She holds long-stemmed roses.

TONY

in his Hawaiian shirt, and holding a crash helmet, stands by the helicopter, talking with SOLDIER, Tony’s size and coloring.

SOLDIER

We’re about set to go, Tony.

Tony lifts shirt, hands Soldier some money out of money-belt.

TONY

I got just one more thing to do.

SOLDIER

Don’t take too long.

Tony gives high sign. Soldier goes behind Radio Shed. FOLLOW TONY to Melanie.

TONY

Could I have a word with you?

MELANIE

(to Dignitaries)

Will you excuse me for just one moment?

Chiang observes as we FOLLOW TONY AND MELANIE to a secluded spot.

MELANIE

Well, nameless, now do you understand?

TONY

Yeah, oh, yeah, I understand.

MELANIE

You’ll be all right, won’t you?

TONY

Oh, sure, I’m always okay.

MELANIE

Maybe one day we’ll meet and —

understand each other.

TONY

Sure. Sure. We both got a lot to do.

MELANIE

Yes, I’m making more speeches. And

I’ll be photographed studying war damage.

TONY

Well, that’s very important. And I gotta

get outa here before everybody starts

asking why I came to Ank-Var without

their booze, and pot, and, well, you know.

MELANIE

(barely attending to him)

And tomorrow my speech goes out to the

whole world.

TONY

Tomorrow. Hmmm. It was a great speech.

MELANIE

I meant every word.

TONY

I know you did. Take care.

MELANIE

I’ll be taken care of. You take

care of yourself.

Melanie gives Tony a long-stemmed rose.

TONY

It’s what I do best.

Tony walks away, not looking back, puts on his helmet, sticks her rose in helmet jauntily. Tony pauses by Radio Shed, turns.

TONY’S POV/MELANIE

Melanie smiles at Tony. O.S. SOUND OF cycles revving up. A hand touches Melanie’s shoulder. It’s Chiang. Melanie smiles, turns.

FOLLOW MELANIE AND CHIANG

to limousine. Melanie keeps looking after Tony. Military Escorts take positions around limo, revving motorcycles. Chauffeur holds door. Melanie enters, then Chiang. Chauffeur closes door.

ANGLE ON BACK WINDOW OF LIMO

Melanie peers out after Tony. SOUND OF Chauffeur’s door, car starting. Melanie looks suddenly half-panicked, sad.

MELANIE’S POV/HELIPAD PAST TONY

Tony waves. SOUND of helicopter. Blades start to whirl. Pilot beckons from helicopter. Tony breaks into a gentle run and passes behind radio shed. In radio shed WE CAN SEE a RADIOMAN at work.

MELANIE

watches for Tony’s reappearance as limo and escort start to move.

MELANIE’S POV/HELIPAD

A FIGURE in Hawaiian shirt and helmet without a rose reappears from behind shack and jumps into the helicopter just as it lifts off.

CLOSE ON MELANIE’S FACE

her eyes moist, watching (as she supposes) Tony leave. Helicopter reflects in the window glass. Limo and motorcycles PULL AWAY and take a turn. As long as we can see the window, Melanie watches Tony leave her life.

CUT TO:

EXT. BEHIND THE RADIO SHED – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Tony, wearing underwear, money-belt, top part of a military uniform, and helmet with rose in it, transfers the cigarette pack containing his money-clip to pocket in military pants he holds, then starts to put on Soldier’s pants. In b.g., helicopter flies away.

DOOR OF HELICOPTER

SOLDIER in Tony’s clothes, holding money, waves.

CUT TO:

EXT. STREETS IN ANK-VAR – (LATER THAT) NIGHT

Dark, empty. Blackout prevails. Most buildings are barricaded with sandbags. Soldiers on motorcycles and then the limo (all with blackout lights only) drive INTO FRAME, ACROSS SCREEN, AND OUT OF FRAME. After a moment TV truck appears in their wake.

FARTHER DOWN STREET

Limo and motorcycles continue down street. TV truck appears in their wake, then takes a turn onto a cross-street.

ANOTHER STREET

FOLLOW TV truck as it continues to

EXT. TV STUDIO – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

The familiar Thainian architecture: A half-ruin shored-up, barricaded, and fenced in. Satellite transmission dish prominent on roof. Trucks parked around building. Crates stacked here and there. A rack of bicycles. Truck approaches gate.

ANGLE ON GATE

Lazy GUARD reads Melanie magazine. At SOUND of truck, Guard waves it past without looking up. Truck passes.

ANGLE INSIDE FENCE

The truck pulls to a stop among similar trucks. Its DRIVER leaves it, lugging a crate, and walks away.

ANGLE UNDER TRUCK

Tony holds onto casing. He lets go, falls to ground.

ANGLE ON TRUCK

Tony, in uniform and helmet with rose, rolls out from under truck, crouches low, scuttles to hide behind bicycle rack.

ANGLE ON SIDE OF TV STUDIO

Tony scuttles behind a stack of crates. He glances out quickly to make sure he is unobserved, then darts to

ANOTHER ANGLE

Tony clambers up a drainpipe to

EXT. ROOF OF TV BUILDING – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Tony appears on roof, darts across using chimneys, drainpipes, satellite dish for cover, to opposite edge, swings over edge to

EXT. WALL OF TV STUDIO – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

featuring an open window. Tony swings over edge of building, into

INT. TV STUDIO – MEN’S ROOM – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

A dinky, stinky affair. SOUND of toilet flushing. Tony swings through window, lands, just as a TECHNICIAN comes out of a stall. Tony spins and stands at urinal. Technician tries to wash his hands at a sink, which doesn’t work. Technician exits, wiping his hands on his clothes. SOUND of door closing. Tony darts past mirror, glimpses it, steps back, takes long-stemmed rose out of his helmet, looks for somewhere to put it, jams it inside his uniform top, starts out door. Becomes aware of thorns on rose.

TONY

Ouch.

CUT TO:

INT. TV STUDIO – CORRIDOR – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Long corridor, dimly-lit. Tony emerges from men’s room, plasters himself against wall, checks things out.

TONY’S POV/THE HALL

Many doors, all closed except one down the hall, open and lit. INDISTINCT MALE VOICES come from it.

BACK TO TONY

Tony edges down the hallway. FOLLOW TONY to open door. Tony very carefully looks in to see —

INT. EDITING ROOM – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

TONY’S POV/THROUGH OPEN DOOR

— two tired Asian EDITORS in smocks at work at a console. The face on all screens is Melanie’s, making her speech. The Editors run bits of tape back and forth, making splices. SOUND is silly squeaks.

EDITOR ONE

We get done with this, you wanna go hit

Kwan’s poker game? I need your money.

EDITOR TWO

So you can lose it to Kwan. I’d like to

see that, but the master tape has to

get to the master.

EDITOR ONE

I gotta stay and get this raw

stuff into the vaults.

INSERT

Editor One pats three cassettes marked LEFT, RIGHT, FULL-FACE.

TONY

registers the cassettes.

EDITOR TWO (V.O.)

— and give Kwan your paycheck. Okay,

that’s it. Run it for continuity.

EDITOR ONE (V.O.)

Or lack thereof.

EDITOR TWO

EDITOR TWO

It better be good. The world is

waiting for it.

INSERT

Editors’ hands work with buttons. All screens go dark. Editor One’s hand hits a button marked PLAY MASTER, right beside a button marked SATELLITE FEED. Central screen lights up.

ON TV SCREEN

Melanie at podium speaks. The three views of Melanie have been expertly intercut so that we SEE and HEAR her give the following speech:

MELANIE

People of Ank-Var. People of the

Resistance Forces. People of Thain.

People of all nations, and —

— people whom the curse of war has

left without a nation, without a

name, without a belief in anything.

I come from America, the country that wants war! I come here today to call for an

end to America! Look at the devastation behind me! War has done this. And who makes war? America! America makes war! That is why we have come here, we citizens born into a hundred races and nations and religions. Americans profit from war. America ravishes everyone! America ruins the lives of everyone! America is a disease that threatens everyone! America restricts everyone! I could not come here freely and openly, because the pitiable fear-crazed rulers of America have made that impossible! America is not my country.

Thainia is! Who wants war? America! Who wants fear? America! Stand up together with me against America! Who wants it? America! Who needs it?

TONY

watching and listening to tape. Tony’s face goes from bewilderment to disbelief to cynicism to rage.

EDITORS

listen with self-satisfaction, high-fiving one another.

ON SCREEN

tape ends with shot of Chiang stepping into frame with Melanie.

TONY

TONY

(mutters)

My country, ’tis of thee.

EDITORS

Editor Two gets out of smock and into American sports-team jacket.

EDITOR ONE

Good job, good job.

EDITOR TWO

Good yourself.

INSERT

Editor One’s hand presses a button. Tape marked “MASTER” pops out of console.

EDITORS

EDITOR ONE

You could still hit the game

after you deliver the master.

EDITOR TWO

(holds up tape)

— to the master. No such luck.

Clear the fuck across town.

Editor One pops tape into a case and hands it to Editor Two.

EDITOR ONE

Tough luck. See you tomorrow.

 

EDITOR TWO

Tell Kwan to leave you lunch money.

Editor One binds together raw tapes with a rubber band. Editor Two jams Master Tape case in his jacket pocket, puts on American team baseball cap, steps out into

CORRIDOR

where Tony waits with a broom raised above his head as a weapon.

EDITOR TWO

(casually)

Hey, Tony! Saw you on the heliport

tape. Sorry we had to edit you out.

You stuck working late, too?

Tony mimes “that’s okay,” lowers broom awkwardly.

TONY

Uh — yeah. Here to deliver

— brooms. Brooms —

Tony displays broom, riffles bristles, gets the hell rid of it.

TONY (cont’d)

Oh, and to pick up some fancy

fucking tape to deliver to —

Hell, you know where —

EDITOR TWO

(delighted)

To Chiang and the Committee?

TONY

(conspiratorially)

Ssssshhhhh.

EDITOR TWO

Hot shit!

(yells into editing room)

Hold on, Han, I’m making the

game after all!

EDITOR ONE (O.S.)

Don’t tease me, Kwo.

With some difficulty, Editor Two extracts bulky case out of his tight jacket pocket. Tony barely conceals his eagerness.

EDITOR TWO

Saw Chiang give you that money-

belt on the tape. Come back and get

in the game.

TONY

(trying for information)

Come back from…?

EDITOR TWO

Across town.

Editor Two gets the tape out and slaps it into Tony’s hand.

EDITOR TWO (cont’d)

There!

Editor One comes out of editing room, in snazzy jacket and cap.

 

EDITOR ONE

Toneeeee! You got that hot-shot

Panama Gold you promised me?

Tony comically pats his uniform, shakes his head, “No.”

EDITOR ONE (cont’d)

You staying at the Dragon House

with that movie star?

TONY

Dragon House. You bet.

EDITOR TWO

You gettin’ any of that?

TONY

Hey, I work for money.

Editors One and Two wink at this and head off down corridor.

EDITOR TWO

(sings mockingly)

Can’t buy me luh-uhve, everybody

tells me so…

EDITOR ONE

I’m through foolin’ with Kwan.

Tonight I’m gonna take it all back…

EDITOR TWO

— up your ass.

Editors One and Two disappear. Tony kisses videotape.

TONY

You are my lucky star.

CUT TO:

EXT. TV STUDIO – GATE – NIGHT – A FEW MINUTES LATER

Guard reads magazine, hears O.S. SOUND.

GUARD

Who goes there?

FOLLOW Guard to truck. Tony bends over it, hot-wiring it.

TONY

Oh, fuck, don’t go military on me.

I lost my goddamned keys to Kwan.

GUARD

Shit, he on another streak?

Guard automatically helps Tony fix truck.

TONY

Yeah, took Han’s whole check.

GUARD

A-fucking-gain?

Guard trips motor, it starts. Tony hops into truck.

TONY

A-fucking-gain. Thanks.

Tony slams truck door, starts away.

GUARD

Hey, halt!

Tony stops. Is it all up?

GUARD (cont’d)

Get me a pair of that poontang’s

panties, hey?

Guard and Tony exchange a series of winks and grimaces as Tony pulls away.

CUT TO:

INT./EXT. TRUCK – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Tony drives along.

TONY

Why does everyone think I’m harmless?

He glances down.

TONY’S POV/LOOKING DOWN

On seat of truck, the magazine opened to Melanie’s fold-out.

TONY

TONY

Yeah, yeah, wave it in my face.

 

CUT TO:

EXT. ESTABLISHING DRAGON HOUSE – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

A once-proud international hotel, now dark and surrounded by the usual barricading.

CUT TO:

INT. DRAGON HOUSE – MELANIE’S SUITE – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Fancy Oriental suite, but with bleached squares on the wall which show treasures have been removed. A huge wardrobe against one wall, a matching unworn spot on another wall where once it stood. A TV set and VCR. Gorgeous drapes cover windows.

Melanie, in Asian dress, angrily listens to Chiang. TWO GUARDS with rifles stand at ready. [NOTE: Chiang’s Guards wear those fascistic brimmed caps that half-cover their faces, okay?]

CHIANG

…and the Committee is at this

moment planning your itinerary.

It must be decided when and where

you can do the most good.

MELANIE

The most good for whom?

CHIANG

It is best if you remain here.

MELANIE

Best for whom?

 

CHIANG

Experts from all sides will

determine your future. Why

not take this opportunity to

relax and refresh yourself?

Here is a television which

receives all satellite stations

except those we must blank out.

MELANIE

For the people’s good?

CHIANG

And there are videotapes of

all your films.

MELANIE

With the naughty parts cut out?

CHIANG

We must protect our people from

cultural shock. I must return to

the conference. You will be

comfortable and safe here.

MELANIE

Oh, I’m sure I’ll be safe.

Melanie trips a Guard, takes his rifle, stands with one foot on him. Melanie presents the rifle to Chiang, takes her foot off Guard. Fallen Guard stands with difficulty, rubbing his bruises.

CHIANG

(coldly)

I take my leave. There is danger

of air-raids. I recommend that

you do not try to open the windows.

Chiang goes to door, preceded by Guards.

MELANIE

What about the door?

Chiang snaps his fingers. A Guard opens the door, revealing another GUARD in hall.

CHIANG

Your door is guarded.

MELANIE

For whose good?

Chiang gives Melanie such a look. Chiang and Guards exit. The lock on the door turns, clicks. Melanie instantly goes to windows, throws back drapes. The windows are barred.

MELANIE

Oh, Mama, did you take lessons

from that guy?

CUT TO:

INT. DRAGON HOUSE – CORRIDOR – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Chiang stands fuming. Door Guard (Tony) stands at attention, his hat over his face. Chiang’s Guards call elevator. It opens with a DING! Another Guard runs it. Chiang addresses Tony.

CHIANG

Listen for any activity in that room —

Chiang looks at bruised Guard.

CHIANG (cont’d)

And don’t go in there for anything.

Tony clicks heels, swings rifle showily. Chiang and Guards enter elevator. Elevator door closes.

CUT TO:

INT. MELANIE’S ROOM – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Melanie stands fuming at TV. Idly picks up boxes of her tapes.

INSERT

Tapes in Melanie’s hands. Covers all show her nude or nearly, her breasts and crotch censored with big black squares.

MELANIE

MELANIE

That’s more than I wore in the

movies.

Melanie tenses at the SOUND of the door jiggling. A bayonet slides between door and frame. Melanie stands, arms full of videotapes. The bayonet breaks the door lock. Door swings open and Tony barges in. Melanie throws tapes, aiming expertly for maximum damage. Tony’s unable to defend himself, as he’s closing door.

TONY

Jesus, don’t throw your career at me!

Tony lifts cap.

MELANIE

Oh, Tony! Tony!

Melanie rushes to Tony, embraces him, kisses him copiously.

TONY

Ouch!

Tony pulls rose out of his shirt. Melanie takes it and looks at Tony adoringly, hugs him tighter.

MELANIE

You came back for me!

TONY

(struggling to free himself)

I never left.

MELANIE

You never left. You’re wonderful.

TONY

(freeing himself)

I’m worried. I’ve got to show

you something.

Tony goes to TV. Melanie follows, lays rose on TV. Tony takes tape from pocket, inserts it in VCR.

MELANIE

If that’s your audition tape, I’m

not casting right now.

TONY

Shut up for once and watch?

TV SCREEN

An American sit-com. ROSEANNE (or similar character) appears.

ROSEANNE

Well, I tell you, you fat (bleep),

you better get your fat (bleep!) out

of here or I’ll —

(another, DUBBED VOICE)

— turn you over to the decadent

western police!

Word “PLAY” appears on screen and Melanie’s tape starts.

MELANIE AND TONY

watch tape.

MELANIE

I don’t have time for —

TONY

Shut your beautiful mouth.

MELANIE

Beautiful, huh?

TONY

Please, ssshhhh.

MELANIE

Well, I’ve looked better..

(listens to tape)

Oh, god damn!

TONY

See what they are?

MELANIE angrily tears tape out of machine, rips it apart.

MELANIE

Oh, fuck! Oh, shit! Those motherfuckers! They’re worse than I thought.

TONY

You trusted them?

Tony goes to windows, throws back drapes, sees bars.

MELANIE

No, I just didn’t know they had the

technology.

TONY

How did you get so cynical?

MELANIE

I’ve made twelve features.

TONY

They’re holding you prisoner?

MELANIE

They’d like to think…Maybe you

could walk me out at gunpoint?

TONY

They’d shoot me in the back.

MELANIE

Could we pull the uniform switch again?

TONY

And leave me behind?

MELANIE

Don’t they all love you?

TONY

Not if you get away.

MELANIE

I could knock you out.

TONY

But what was I doing here?

MELANIE

Dead end….Kiss me.

Melanie grabs Tony — major kiss. They paw each other like kids.

MELANIE

Tell me that you love me.

TONY

It’d be a lie.

MELANIE

Then why did you come for me?

TONY

I never thought about it. How does

this come undone?

MELANIE

Tell me that you love me.

TONY

Okay. I love you.

Melanie’s dress falls away and she’s nude in Tony’s arms. They sink to the floor with Tony lowering his pants.

MELANIE

I love you, too. I love you, too, Tony.

Tony fumbles with a condom packet, tears it with his teeth.

TONY

Mo, view mon’t (No you don’t)

MELANIE

Yes, I do. Yes, I do.

Melanie grabs the condom, puts it on Tony, grabs him. They fuck.

MELANIE

I love you. You came back for me.

TONY

I’d have come back for anyone.

MELANIE

I know, that’s why I love you.

TONY

Everybody loves me.

MELANIE

Nobody loves you like I do.

They climax together, memorably. Tony rolls off of Melanie.

MELANIE

Well, that was fast.

TONY

I was fucking the most beautiful

woman in the world. What’s your excuse?

MELANIE

You’re the most wonderful man.

TONY

I’m a pimp and a pushover.

MELANIE

That’s as good as men get.

Tony and Melanie stand and dress.

TONY

Well, that didn’t get us anywhere.

MELANIE

I’ve been thinking. We need to get

into the next room.

TONY

You were thinking? While we did that?

MELANIE

Sex burns away the fog. I had an idea.

Come help me move this.

Melanie tugs wardrobe. Tony goes to help her. It’s really heavy.

TONY

You plan to hide in this and I’ll

carry it out?

MELANIE

Keep grunting.

They get it a bit out from the wall, and — voila! There’s a door behind it.

MELANIE

Will you open a door for a lady?

Tony uses the bayonet again. It’s tough in such a tight space, especially with Melanie hanging on him lovingly.

TONY

Who’s next door?

MELANIE

No one. I always get a whole

floor. It’s in my contract.

Tony succeeds in hacking the door open, and they squeeze through.

CUT TO:

INT. THE NEXT SUITE – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

It’s pretty dark. Tony and Melanie squeeze through. Tony pulls wardrobe back into place — nearly. Melanie squints into the gloom. Melanie’s eyes grow wide.

MELANIE

Woops.

ANGLE ON BED

Two NUDE SOLDIERS in bed stare, startled, at the intruders.

WIDER

TONY

Love is in the air.

Tony skitters to hall door, peeks out.

FIRST SOLDIER

Melanie Marlowe! I love you!

MELANIE

That makes this all the harder.

Melanie efficiently rabbit-punches both Soldiers. They’re disabled. Melanie joins Tony at hall door.

 

MELANIE (cont’d)

I hope their relationship can

survive this.

INT. CORRIDOR – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Tony, gun at ready, and Melanie emerge from room. Melanie doesn’t close door behind her. They edge along the wall.

TONY

How can you be so casually violent?

MELANIE

They’re soldiers. They’re hired killers.

TONY

They’ve been suckered into it.

MELANIE

Me, too.

TONY

Where are we going?

MELANIE

I thought you knew.

TONY

Think again.

MELANIE

I thought men were smarter than women.

TONY

I thought women were smarter than men.

MELANIE

Well, one of us better be right —

Elevator red light comes on. There’s a Ding! SOUND.

MELANIE (cont’d)

— ’cause here comes the fun.

TONY

Quick. Back in there.

MELANIE

They may not like us in there.

Tony drags Melanie back into second suite, slams the door.

ANGLE ON ELEVATOR

Door opens. Chiang, Guards, and OFFICIALS of all factions [including a REBEL GENERAL] step out, gasp as they see —

CHIANG’S POV/THE SHATTERED DOOR OF MELANIE’S SUITE

CUT TO:

INT. THE SECOND SUITE – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Tony and Melanie lean against door. O.S. SOUND of Chiang and Officials shouting next door. Tony rushes to windows.

Soldiers in bed, just recovering, see them. Soldier Two ducks under the covers. Soldier One is delighted to see them.

SOLDIER ONE

Melanie Marlowe. Hit me again.

Soldier Two drags him under the covers. Tony throws back drapes. There are no bars on the window.

TONY

No bars for the enlisted men.

(To Melanie)

You first.

MELANIE

You do love me.

Tony holds drapes. Melanie clambers through window.

TONY

Love you? I’m still wearing the condom.

CUT TO:

INT. MELANIE’S SUITE – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Chiang stands being berated by REBEL GENERAL. In b.g., Guards search in closets, behind drapes.

REBEL GENERAL

This is typical of your leadership,

Chiang. Perhaps it is time you step

down from the leadership of The People’s

Party for the good of the proletariat.

The movement cannot afford such slipshod

thinking from its leaders. For the

good of the people, the Committee may

find it necessary to select an alternative

candidate to guide the People’s Army in

its removal of foreign elements from the

sacred soil of Thain.

DURING THIS SPEECH, Chiang’s eyes dart about the room. He sees —

CHIANG’S POV/SCAN ROOM

— the ruined tape, the withered rose, the condom package.

CHIANG

keeps looking about. Chiang sees —

CHIANG’S POV/WALL

— the large unfaded rectangle on the wall where once the wardrobe stood, the wardrobe, the foot of the wardrobe on a snarled rug.

CHIANG

CHIANG

Quiet, you blithering conspirator.

Chiang draws a gun. Guards stop searching. Rebel General falls silent. Chiang snaps his fingers, directing Guards to move the wardrobe. Guards shove wardrobe aside.

CHIANG’S POV/BEHIND THE WARDROBE

The shattered door.

CHIANG

without a word, authoritatively signals Guards to go into the hall to the door of the adjoining suite. With a withering glance at the Officials, Chiang slips behind the wardrobe.

BEHIND THE WARDROBE

Chiang holds his gun at the ready, and kicks the door to the next suite open.

CHIANG

Now!

CUT TO:

INT. SECOND SUITE – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

ANGLE ON CONNECTING DOOR

Chiang steps into dark room as Guards kick open hall door, flooding room with light. Chiang gasps to see —

ANGLE ON BED

— the two Nude Soldiers, bound and gagged back-to-back in bed.

WIDER

Guards stand stymied in doorway. Officials, frightened, peek over Guards’ shoulders.

CHIANG

(of bound soldiers)

Release them.

Guards pull gags off Soldiers.

SECOND SOLDIER

They went out the door.

FIRST SOLDIER

There were ten of them.

SECOND SOLDIER

At least.

FIRST SOLDIER

It was horrible!

CHIANG

After them!

Most Guards turn and rush out door, with difficulty because Officials are in the way. It’s Keystone Kops. Officials crowd into room. Some of Chiang’s Guards remain.

SECOND SOLDIER

They had huge guns.

FIRST SOLDIER

And masks! Masks!

FIRST SOLDIER

They were all in Rebel uniforms.

Chiang points at Rebel General.

CHIANG

(to Guards)

Arrest him!

Guards cuff stunned Rebel General and march him away. Officials follow. Chiang stands with gun, puzzled. Something’s not right. Nude Soldiers, still bound, blink at him innocently. Chiang steps on something, bends, picks it up. It’s a used condom. Chiang holds it up and looks questioningly at Nude Soldiers.

FIRST SOLDIER

(with a shrug)

Boys will be boys.

Chiang raises an eyebrow as we

CUT TO:

EXT. ANK-VAR STREET – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

The “TV” truck bounces through the night. SOUND of alarms.

INT./EXT. THE TRUCK – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Tony drives. Melanie cowers beside him.

MELANIE

(of sounds)

Jesus, they’re onto us.

TONY

Not yet.

CUT TO:

EXT. ANK-VAR – VERY WIDE – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Sirens SOUND and spotlights FLASH all over the city.

CUT TO:

INT./EXT. THE TRUCK – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

MELANIE

My God, it looks like a premiere.

TONY

If we get out of this, can I be

in your next movie?

MELANIE

Fat lot of movies I’ll make

after that tape airs.

EXT. STREET – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Tony pulls the truck in amongst some shadows, stops.

INT./EXT. THE TRUCK – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

TONY

Melanie, what you said to me back there.

Was that just acting?

MELANIE

You flatter me.

TONY

I feel the same way about you.

MELANIE

(tenderly)

That makes me very happy, Tony. Now

can we save our asses?

TONY

Which would you rather have

saved, your ass or your good name?

MELANIE

I don’t have a good name. I do

have an ass.

TONY

Can you be serious?

MELANIE

Christ, I’ve committed treason

and killed people. Is that frivolous?

TONY

Because if we can get your real

speech on the air before they show

that butchered version —

MELANIE

Is that possible?

TONY

Is it desirable?

MELANIE

More than anything else in the world.

TONY

More than your life?

Tony gives Melanie an extremely serious look. Melanie returns it.

MELANIE

More than my life…But not

more than yours.

TONY

I’ll decide that for myself,

thanks.

Tony starts turning truck around.

MELANIE

Well, well. Men’s lib.

EXT. THE STREET – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Tony turns the truck sharply and heads down another street. The city is still going crazy with SOUNDS of alarms and sirens and FLASHES of searchlights.

INT./EXT. THE TRUCK – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

MELANIE

It doesn’t make sense. Why would

they alarm the whole city just for us?

TONY

Either you underestimate your own

charm or there’s an air-raid coming.

MELANIE

They wouldn’t light up the city

if it’s an air-raid.

First bombs fall with tremendous SOUND, making truck leap.

TONY

Okay, so I’m wrong. That isn’t

an air-raid.

EXT. STREET – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Truck barrels through streets. SOUNDS of bombs and planes and anti-plane artillery. Lights and sirens STOP.

INT./EXT. TRUCK – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

MELANIE

Smart move, fellas.

TONY

We just have to get a few more

blocks. Just a few more blocks.

TONY’S POV/STREET

In truck’s headlights a tank and ARMED FLAHVAN SOLDIERS block the way. Behind Flahvan Soldiers is a huge barricaded building.

IN TRUCK

TONY

Oh, shit!

Tony brakes to a halt.

MELANIE

What’s happening?

EXT. STREET – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Flahvan Soldiers swarm around truck.

INT./EXT. TRUCK – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

MELANIE

Tony, what’s happening?

Keep moving!

TONY

(coldly)

Sorry, baby. Dead end.

Melanie, unbelieving, stares back at Tony, as door on her side swings open and Flahvan Soldier clasps her arm.

A FLAHVAN OFFICER peers through Tony’s window.

FLAHVAN OFFICER

Hey, Tone! You got ‘er, huh?

TONY

(genially)

Who ya gonna call?

Melanie, shocked, stares at Tony as Flahvans pull her from truck.

MELANIE

Tony —

A Soldier slaps a gag over Melanie’s mouth.

TONY

Don’t struggle, baby. It’s hopeless.

(to Flahvan Soldier)

I get a tenth of your take for her.

Tony starts truck. Flahvan Soldier nods matter-of-factly.

FLAHVAN OFFICER

Where do you want it sent?

TONY

Thainia, man. I’m gettin’ out of

here. You kids play too rough.

TONY’S POV/MELANIE (THROUGH TRUCK DOOR)

Through open passenger-side truck door. Melanie stands in street, held by Soldiers, staring at Tony. A Soldier slams passenger-side door, hiding Melanie.

EXT. STREET – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Soldiers holding Melanie pull her away from truck. Tony turns truck around and drives away.

MELANIE

in grip of Flahvan Soldiers stands staring after Tony.

INT./EXT. TRUCK – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Tony drives away, his face a mask. Truck GOES OUT OF FRAME, leaving us a b.g. view of Melanie still trying to stare after Tony as Flahvan Soldiers lead her away into barricaded building.

EXT. GUARD HEADQUARTERS – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

MELANIE

her face a mask of bewilderment as she’s shoved into building. Melanie can’t believe Tony would desert her. Is Melanie lost?

CUT TO:

EXT. GUARD HEADQUARTERS – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Big ugly building, completely fortified. Flahvan soldiers drag Melanie through gate and into building.

CUT TO:

INT. GUARD HEADQUARTERS – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

There’s a crooked, maze-like, sandbagged corridor which runs clear through the building. Along the way are offices for each national contingent, each with a Radio Operator posted outside its door. We’re not going into any of the offices, just through the corridor.

FLAHVAN RADIO OPERATOR looks up to see Melanie dragged in by Flahvan Soldiers. He speaks into radio.

FLAHVAN R.O.

She’s here. Baggage delivered.

(listens)

Over and out.

FLAHVAN OFFICER comes out of office.

FLAHVAN R.O.

(to Flahvan Officer)

Chiang says he’ll send a truck

for her to the front door.

A bomb drops nearby. Plaster falls. Melanie struggles.

FLAHVAN OFFICER

Get her up front. And tell

Wing I get twenty percent of what

he gets for her.

Officer goes back into office. Soldiers hustle Melanie away.

INT. HALLWAY – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Flahvan Soldiers hustle Melanie down corridor to an office where a THAINESE RADIO OPERATOR and THAINESE SOLDIERS wait at ready.

FLAHVAN SOLDIER

(to HEAD THAINESE)

Here she is. Fong says he gets

twenty percent.

HEAD THAINESE

(to his soldiers)

Take her.

(to Flahvan Soldier)

Tell him fifteen.

Flahvan Soldiers turn Melanie over to Thainese soldiers.

FLAHVAN SOLDIER

He’ll shit.

HEAD THAINESE

With my compliments.

(To Thainese Soldiers)

Get her up front on the double.

And tell Hang I want thirty

percent. Fong’s holding me up.

Thainese Soldier nods and hustles the still-struggling Melanie away.

INT. CORRIDOR – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Thainese Soldiers drag Melanie down the corridor. Melanie manages to wrest herself free and does some damage to the Soldiers in a quick flurry of violence. Soldiers subdue Melanie. One Solider is about to bring a gun-butt down on Melanie.

O.S. SOUND of a gun clicking stops Soldier. Melanie and Soldiers look at —

MAJOR HANG

a dangerous American brute, holding a gun leveled at Soldiers.

HANG

Like, halt.

Soldiers and Melanie freeze. Hang walks to them, takes Melanie’s arm.

HANG (Cont’d)

No damage to the merchandise.

THAINESE SOLDIER

Wing says he wants thirty percent.

HANG

Tell him my bank got bombed. He’ll

take what he gets.

(to Melanie)

Come with me, your majesty.

Hang leads Melanie away in no uncertain terms.

INT. CORRIDOR – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Hang marches Melanie along. He clutches Melanie’s arm with one hand, holding his gun to her temple with the other. Melanie shakes gag off.

MELANIE

Listen, I can offer you —

HANG

I got everything I need, lady.

Especially I got all the trouble

I need. Offer me no more.

MELANIE

I can give you money —

HANG

Not if you ain’t got it on you.

Hang tugs Melanie’s gag tighter, shoves her forward.

CUT TO:

EXT. GUARD HEADQUARTERS – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

GUARDS at door. SOLDIERS pile up additional sand-bag barricades. In b.g., bombs fall. Melanie and Hang come out of front entrance. GUARDS strike postures of rigid attention. Hang is a tough customer. He shoves Melanie through sand-bag barricades to gate. Soldiers open gate for him.

Shadowy

HANG

(to driver)

Okay. Here’s the goods. Gimme

the goodies.

THE DRIVER

leans into view. It’s Tony.

HANG

Hey, Tone. You’re fast in

the dark.

TONY

That’s what the nuns always said.

MELANIE

registers Tony and starts to struggle. Hang jerks her.

HANG

Lady, you hurt yourself and I

get blamed for it. I don’t get

blamed for nothing, get it?

Melanie looks to Tony.

TONY

Hey, Hang, hold off. You bruise

her, I get blamed. Play fair.

Melanie subsides.

HANG

Gimme the money.

TONY

You’ll get it tomorrow.

Provided there’s a tomorrow.

HANG

Then she gets it tonight.

Melanie stares at Tony.

TONY

(with a sigh)

Oh, well, easy come, easy go.

Tony removes his money-belt and holds it out.

HANG

Give it to her.

Tony hands money-belt to Melanie with one hand, reaches for her with the other. Hang waves gun menacingly.

HANG

Huh-uh.

(To Melanie)

Count it, honey.

TONY

You see too many movies.

Melanie is about to open money-belt when a bomb falls very near. Soldiers and Guards dive for cover. Sand flies. Hang looses his grasp on Melanie. Melanie shoves Hang away and hops into truck cab with money-belt. Hang raises gun. Tony grabs money-belt.

TONY

Easy go, Melanie!

Tony flings money-belt in Hang’s face, digs out without closing passenger door. Hang claws belt from his face, aims gun.

WIDER

Truck containing Tony and Melanie screeches away. Another bomb explodes right where truck stood. Hang falls back, firing.

IN A CLOUD OF DUST

Hang comes up, sputtering and shooting. Soldiers grab for money-belt. Hang pistol-whips their hands, grabs belt.

HANG

Let the fuck go!

Hang starts to open money-belt. A truck pulls up. Asian DRIVER leans out.

DRIVER

Hang! Where’s the woman?

Hang registers this remark. He does a double-take after Tony’s truck. He opens his mouth. A bomb lands on the second truck.

CUT TO:

INT./EXT. – TONY’S TRUCK – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

O.S. EXPLOSION. Melanie almost falls out. Tony grabs her. She slams door, flings Tony’s hands away from her, rips gag off of her mouth, flails Tony.

MELANIE

You result of ten generations of rape!

How could you know I was safe?

TONY

They’re men, they do everything for

money.

MELANIE

You don’t do everything for money.

TONY

You kidding? I’m with you for money!

Stolen from orphans.

Tony takes cigarette-pack with money-clip from pants-pocket, waves it.

MELANIE

How did you get so cynical?

TONY

You taught me everything I know.

Melanie kisses Tony. They’re okay again.

MELANIE

Bastard.

Tony grins, her lipstick on his mouth.

TONY

And may I call you “Melanie?”

Tony stuffs money-clip back into his shirt pocket.

CUT TO:

EXT. ANK-VAR STREETS – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

The truck barrels through the booming, blazing night.

CUT TO:

EXT. GUARD H.Q. – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Much rubble, including ruined, smoking truck. Hang comes up out of rubble, bloody, waving his gun. He realizes everyone is dead. He kicks dead Soldiers aside until he finds the money-belt.

INSERT

Hang’s bloody hands open the money-belt. Inside are torn-up magazine pages with Melanie’s pictures on them.

BACK TO SCENE

HANG

(enraged)

Mayday! Mayday! Get the fucker!

Close every gate to this city!

CUT TO:

EXT. TV STUDIO – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

The TV truck is inconspicuously parked among other vehicles outside the studio. In b.g., the air-raid goes on.

INT. TV STUDIO – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Tony and Melanie, hand-in-hand, run down corridors past a few TECHNICIANS and SOLDIERS huddled under tables, behind crates, etc. as SOUNDS of bombs resound outside.

MELANIE

The bombs are getting closer!

TONY

We’ve got to get that raw footage!

INT. POKER ROOM – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

A storage room where gaming facilities are set up. Tony and Melanie burst in. It seems deserted. But –

— under poker table, the game goes on. SEVERAL TECHNICIANS plus Han and Kwo (our earlier Editors) huddle, playing poker.

HAN

Yo, Tony, wanna play?

Card Players register Melanie’s presence.

KWO

I like your stakes.

TONY

Yo, Han, Kwo. Chiang wants this

tramp’s tape aired right now.

KWO

Now? In an air-raid?

HAN

When I’m winning?

TONY

While our side still has a studio.

KWO

Do you have the tape?

TONY

He wants the raw stuff aired.

HAN

Are you sure?

TONY

Would I, of all people, be risking

my life if Chiang hadn’t ordered me to?

Han and Kwo look at each other uncertainly. Tony looks frustrated. Melanie places a cautionary hand on Tony, then smiles her Cinemascope smile and says to Han and Kwo —

MELANIE

As a personal favor to Melanie?

Han and Kwo melt from her smile.

CUT TO:

INT. DRAGON HOTEL LOBBY – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Chiang and Officers sit around a meeting-table. Armed Guards surround them. It’s tense. SOLDIERS enter through several doors. Chiang looks at them questioningly. Soldiers shake their heads negatively. Officers give Chiang dire looks. There’s clearly a stand-off of power going on, with Chiang’s prestige at stake. Chiang’s face remains imperturbable, but his hands nervously fuss with —

— the destroyed tape. Chiang muses on it, trying to buy time. The Officers exchange looks, one nods, then all stand at once as if to make an announcement. Could be a coup. Guards snap to attention. Chiang looks up at Officers, around at Soldiers, clearly cornered. Officers leer.

Suddenly Hang bursts into the room, a bloody monster. He waves the money-belt, pictures of Melanie dangling from it.

HANG

That pimp stole that whore!

Chiang looks back at the ruined tape, suddenly makes a connection. He stands with frightening purpose and authority. The other Officers, reacting to his virile dominance, sit.

 

CUT TO:

INT. TV BUILDING – BROADCAST BOOTH – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Tony, Melanie, Han, and Kwo are present. Other Poker Players huddle in doorway, ogling Melanie. Melanie signs a few autographs.

Han holds up three raw footage tapes.

HAN

Three angles.

MELANIE

Use the one shot from the front.

No, the left. No, the right.

No, front. We’re not selling tits.

Tony looks at her. She’s thinking about things like that?

Han inserts a tape marked “FRONT” into a deck. Kwo clicks a few switches. Lights on the board light and twinkle.

TONY

It’s going out now on satellite?

KWO

Going out now.

MELANIE

You’re all such clever men.

Melanie gives Tony a look a man could die for. And might, for SOUNDS of bombs are terribly near.

CUT TO:

EXT. T.V. STUDIO – MINUTES LATER – NIGHT

The truck. Tony and Melanie come running to it. They stop, look up at —

TONY AND MELANIE’S POV/T.V. STUDIO ROOF

— the satellite dish, a red light blinking on it.

MELANIE

kisses Tony. O.S. SOUNDS of shouts and motors. They turn, to see –

TONY AND MELANIE’S POV/ROAD TO T.V. STUDIO

— a convoy of jeeps and tanks bristling with SOLDIERS. coming up the road. An open jeep heads it, full of Chiang, Hang, and Officers, waving guns.

TONY AND MELANIE

MELANIE

It doesn’t matter. I love you.

TONY

It matters. I still have the

hundred thousand dollars! American.

MELANIE

You pimp!

TONY

You whore.

MELANIE

You drive.

CUT TO:

EXT. ROAD TO T.V. STATION – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

The convoy barrels forward. Suddenly the familiar T.V. truck comes roaring through the fence. It’s seen from the low angle of the passengers in the jeep. We can’t see who’s driving it. In a crazy curve, it veers just past the head of the convoy and then wildly down the fronting road.

CHIANG

Stop them! Stop them now!

HIS DRIVER

But, Chiang, it’s Tony! We

Can’t kill Tony!

Chiang stares at the man in frustration. Then—

CHIANG

I’ll pay you.

HIS DRIVER

All right!

The convoy swerves to catch the truck. Truck continues to veer. It circles around and heads back for the convoy. The convoy scatters to avoid it. The truck smashes into a tank. Chiang leaves his jeep and runs to truck, gun drawn. He sees —

CHANG’S POV/TRUCK INTERIOR

It’s empty, its steering wheel tied in position with a man’s belt.

CUT TO:

EXT. ANK-VAR STREETS – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Tony and Melanie on a bicycle. Tony steers as well as he can while trying to hold his pants up.

MELANIE

You kept the money? You tool!

TONY

And it’s dragging my pants down!

MELANIE

Serves you right.

But Melanie holds Tony’s pants up for him.

CUT TO:

INT. BROADCAST BOOTH – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Kwo, Han, and other Poker Players have moved their game to the booth. Suddenly Chiang and Hang burst through the door, brandishing guns. Cards fly in the air.

CHIANG’S POV/THE SWITCHBOARD

–where suddenly a red light starts blinking, along with a sign saying, “Transmission complete.”

CHIANG

fires at the board.

THE BOARD

explodes in a shower of shrapnel and sparks.

CUT TO:

EXT. ANK-VAR HELIPORT – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Tony and Melanie speed through the unguarded gates, screech to a halt by a small helicopter. GUARDS peek out from under it.

SOUNDS of bombs continue not too far away.

TONY

Yo! Hey! Get this thing going.

Chiang wants Ms. Marlowe flown to

safety!

Guards rush to do whatever it is they do to ready a chopper.

Tony and Melanie clamber into cabin, Tony clutching his pants.

A GUARD

Barely got your pants on, hey, Tone?

TONY

(to Melanie)

By the way, don’t ever call me

“Tone,” okay?

INT./EXT. THE HELICOPTER – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Tony and Melanie clamber aboard. Tony heads for controls.

MELANIE

You know how to drive this thing?

TONY

(busy at controls)

“Pilot it,” Melanie, “Pilot it.”

CUT TO:

EXT. ANK-VAR STREETS – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

The convoy screams through the streets to the SOUND of sirens.

CUT TO:

EXT. HELIPAD – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Helicopter slowly comes to life. SIRENS O.S.. Guards pull out blocks or whatever they do. WE SEE the radio shack b.g..

TONY

Hustle it up, guys!

INT. RADIO SHACK – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

SOUND: Radio starts buzzing. A frightened RADIO OPERATOR peers out from under a table, torn between duty and dread. SOUNDS of bombs are added to the sirens. SOUND of helicopter rises, but SOUND of radio bleeping is still audible. Operator reluctantly reaches up from under table, pulls ear-and-mouthpiece down to him.

OPERATOR

Yes, hello, helipad control,

and it better be good.

CUT TO:

EXT. RADIO SHACK – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Through a window we see the Operator suddenly snap to attention, salute, knocking over the table as he stands.

CUT TO:

INT./ EXT. – HELICOPTER – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Tony sees the Operator.

TONY

Oh, no.

MELANIE

What’s wrong?

Tony points at the Operator. Melanie looks at shack.

MELANIE’S POV/RADIO SHACK

Operator runs out of shack, yelling.

OPERATOR

Hey, no! Stop them! Stop

the chopper! Chiang’s coming!

WIDER AROUND HELICOPTER

The Soldiers look about uncertainly, but are not sure.

OPERATOR (Cont’d)

And he’s got Hang with him!

The Soldiers are galvanized by fear of Hang. Those at the helicopter stop working. Others come from hiding, with guns.

IN THE CHOPPER

MELANIE

Tony, hurry!

MELANIE’S POV/HELIPORT GATE

The convoy arrives.

WIDER ON HELICOPTER

starting to rise. Some Soldiers hold ropes dangling from it, keeping it back, making it wobble. Others converge with guns.

IN THE CHOPPER

MELANIE

Tony, get it up!

TONY

Put your hands in my pants.

MELANIE

Now?

TONY

Throw them money!

OUTSIDE THE CHOPPER

The Soldiers are succeeding in making the helicopter too unbalanced to take off. Suddenly a shower of bills comes out of the cabin window. Money flutters in the prop-wash. Soldiers let go of ropes with shouts and dive for the money.

ANGLE ON CONVOY

It’s suddenly blocked by heedless soldiers chasing money. Jeeps and tanks crash into each other. Soldiers in jeeps are thrown out. Others run to join the money chase.

THE HELICOPTER

Released, it wobbles — but a rope is still tied to a bollard.

IN THE CHOPPER

Tony and Melanie are jarred as the rope tightens.

OUTSIDE THE CHOPPER

Chiang and Hang crawl out of jeep, firing. Sufficient Soldiers run away to make a path. Chiang and Hang stride toward the chopper.

INSIDE THE CHOPPER

TONY

More money! Throw them more money!

Melanie dives to dig in his pants.

OUTSIDE THE CHOPPER

Chiang and Hang advance. They aim at the helicopter but — money flutters around them. Soldiers mob them, for the money.

THE ROPE

gives a sudden foot or two.

IN THE CHOPPER

Tony and Melanie scream with joy. But the SOUND of bombs hitting ‘way too near quiets them. They look out the window.

THEIR POV/THE SKY

–full of small bombers and fighter planes.

IN THE CHOPPER

Tony and Melanie look down.

THEIR POV/THE SKY

Strafing fire from the fighter planes kills many Soldiers. Chiang and Hang, however, superhumanly stand in the smoke, rubble, and flames. They take aim at the chopper.

IN THE CHOPPER

Tony digs in his pants-pocket, takes out his cigarettes, shakes out original clip of money Reynolds gave him.

TONY

Here, throw them my fee. You

couldn’t pay me to do this.

Melanie laughs, removes money from clip, throws money out window.

CHIANG AND HANG

Fluttering money blinds Chiang. His deflected shot hits Hang. Hang shoots Chiang. They shoot each other amidst smoke, fire, prop-wash, and wounded and dying soldiers fighting over money.

THE ROPE

breaks!

IN THE CHOPPER

Tony and Melanie are jarred as chopper ascends into sky.

CHIANG AND HANG

shooting at one another as we PULL AWAY into the sky. Dust and smoke quickly obscure the savage scene.

THE CHOPPER

straightens and rises above the fray.

CUT TO:

INT./EXT. THE HELICOPTER – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Tony and Melanie relax. Not for long. Fighter-fire spits and rings around them. She shoves Tony aside and takes the controls.

MELANIE

Jesus, get on the radio and stop them

firing on us.

Tony grabs at the radio.

 

TONY

Calling all channels, or whatever

you call them. This is Tony Sunday.

Tony Sunday. Helicopter number —

— SW45689. Don’t fire on us. I’ve

got Melanie Marlowe in here. Bound for

Thainia. Don’t — Repeat, don’t shoot!

VOICE OVER RADIO

Loud and clear, Tony. Bring her back

to us.

TONY

You might have killed us.

VOICE OVER RADIO

No way. We hid a tracer in your money-clip.

Tony’s face is such a study.

VOICE OVER RADIO (cont’d)

Great speech, Ms. Marlowe.

MELANIE

Thank you, sugar.

VOICE OVER RADIO

Wish the world was like that.

MELANIE

Wishing will make it so, sugar.

Tony falls back in his seat, then sits up, startled.

TONY

You can fly this thing?

MELANIE

“Pilot it, Tony, pilot it.”

Daddy left me one.

TONY

How come you didn’t say?

MELANIE

You looked so brave at the helm.

Tony looks down.

TONY’S POV/ANk-VAR

–going up in apocalyptic fire.

BACK IN CHOPPER

TONY

Well, there goes your one world.

MELANIE

That wasn’t it.

TONY

Where in Hell are we headed?

MELANIE

We in Hell are headed for the first

plane out of here to Hollywood.

TONY

Hollywood? What in Hell will I do in Hollywood?

MELANIE

(with a big smile)

You in Hollywood will do me.

Melanie gives Tony a look that would melt Mount Rushmore. Tony looks at Melanie, bewildered. Melanie turns her beautiful eyes to the sky ahead.

CUT TO:

EXT. SKY – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Escorted by friendly fighters, the chopper zooms into the night as we

FADE OUT:

–end–

FADE IN:

screenplay THE WAY WE WAR by Robert Patrick Part 2 of 3

EXT. STREET – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

 

Pitch-blackness. Tony’s jeep lights flare on. A car passes, lights off. Its DRIVER yells:

DRIVER

Turn off those lights, ass-hole!

IN THE JEEP

 

MELANIE

What did he say?

TONY

No lights after dark.

MELANIE

But why?

Suddenly GUNFIRE sounds around them. Melanie SCREAMS.

TONY

That’s why.

THE STREET

 

Tony veers expertly. GUNS fire. Bullets hit street near jeep.

IN THE JEEP

 

MELANIE

What’s happening?

TONY

What’s the matter? Think of the

headlines!

More GUNFIRE.

THE STREET

 

Tony veers through rubble, swerves to avoid other vehicles. GUNFIRE continues. Sparks fly everywhere.

IN THE JEEP

 

MELANIE

Stop it! Stop it!

Melanie fumbles for light-switch, car-keys, wheel, anything.

THE STREET

 

The jeep zigzags crazily. GUNFIRE sounds. Bullets strike sparks. Passing vehicles BLOW HORNS. Melanie SCREAMS. Tony YELLS.

MELANIE(Cont’d VO)

Stop it! Stop it!

TONY

Cut that out! Cut it out!

IN THE JEEP

INSERT

 

Melanie’s clawing hands hit and clutch Tony’s crotch.

TONY

 

lets out a profound CRY.

THE STREET

 

The jeep runs off the road into a cushioning hedge, stops.

IN THE JEEP

 

Tony MOANS as Melanie switches off motor and lights.

MELANIE

How could you do that to me?

TONY

With relish.

MELANIE

How could you know we’d be safe?

Tony turns to face her. He’s never been this scary before.

Melanie cringes.

TONY

(with both barrels)

Because I was raised in this rubble, honey. l know where the guns are and I know where

the girls are. That’s how I survived so far, and I’ll survive you. So you pull just one more Beverly Hills debutante party-prank on me, Miss Tits, and I’ll throw you to the wolves with your pants down. And I know where the wolves are in the mysterious Asian night. I was raised by them!

Melanie’s beautiful face is wet with sudden tears.

MELANIE

Oh, God, Tony, I don’t want to make

trouble for you! Less than anybody

in the world, trouble for anyone

like you! I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

Melanie reaches out, takes Tony’s angry face in her hands. He could almost collapse into that famous bosom, but he recoils.

TONY

How could even you be stupid enough

to think I’d soften for a woman’s tears?

Melanie stares at Tony, turns away.

MELANIE’S FACE

 

Tears and incredible weariness distort Melanie’s beautiful features. She looks out jeep window at —

MELANIE’S POV/ROADISE RUBBLE

 

— the hideous rubble of Thainia. Just enough light to see TWO ORPHAN CHILDREN scrabbling in the ruins beside barbed wire where an indifferent GUARD ignores them.

CHILDREN

You got gum, solider? You got

something to eat?

MELANIE’S FACE

 

She composes it and turns.

TONY’S POV/MELANIE’S FACE

 

It’s composed.

MELANIE

No, no, of course you wouldn’t.

Time to take me home, I think —

wherever that may be.

TONY

 

Tony is more moved than he’d admit. But he mockingly says —

TONY

Gee, Melanie, baby. I should have

known you’re not the kind of a girl

that parks on the first date.

Tony starts the jeep and backs out.

THE STREET

 

The jeep backs out and heads away down the dark street.

CUT TO:

EXT. A RESIDENCE — NIGHT — SHORTLY LATER

The most distinguished building left standing in Thainia. Its Colonial dignity contrasts with its barbed-wire fencing and gate-guards. A CAR ENGINE approaches. GUARDS brace, guns at ready.

GUARDS’ POV/THE STREET

 

Out of the darkness, Tony’s jeep appears.

THE GUARDS

 

laugh and relax. The jeep pulls into frame with Guards.

A GUARD

Hey, Tony.

ANGLE ON JEEP

 

The passenger door swings open. WE SEE of Tony only his hand. Melanie gets out of jeep. Guards go to attention.

A GUARD

Good evening, Ms. Marlowe. Right

this way, if you please.

Guards stand ready by Melanie while ANOTHER GUARD opens gate. MORE GUARDS appear, surround Melanie, and walk her through the gate.

ANGLE INSIDE GATE

 

Melanie and Guards go up walk to door. Melanie is composed. The jeep is visible over her shoulder. Tony’s hand appears and SLAMS the passenger door. Melanie reacts but slightly. Gate closes.

REVERSE ANGLE

 

Door of residence swings open and a motherly MATRON appears.

MATRON

Welcome, Ms. Marlowe. Your

accommodations are prepared.

ANOTHER ANGLE

 

on porch of residence as Matron stands aside to let Melanie enter. Guards remain on porch.

ANGLE ON MELANIE

 

as WE HEAR jeep PULLING AWAY. Melanie’s emotions fight on her face. Then, suitably “tweety,” Melanie says —

MELANIE

Goodness, you mean these perfectly

scrumptious men have to stay outside?

WIDER

 

Guards grin, Matron frowns, Melanie enters residence. The door closes in our face. A sign reads “V.I.P. SECURITY.”

SHOCK CUT TO:

EXT. SKY – (THE NEXT) DAY

HELICOPTER NOISE. Blades spin against sky.

CUT TO:

EXT. OVER JUNGLE – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Dense green jungle. Shadows of three moving helicopters.

CUT TO:

EXT. ANGLE UNDER HELICOPTERS – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Three big military helicopters in loose formation.

CUT TO:

INT./EXT. HELICOPTER – DAY – CONTINUOUS

BIG CLOSE UP MELANIE

 

Laughs delightedly. She’s “on,” “tweety,” all charm.

WIDER ANGLE

 

Big chopper, roomy, bare-bones. Melanie in G.I. coverall and army shoes signs a rifle butt. A high-heeled shoe juts from each of her coverall pockets. Four GUARDS and a CAPTAIN stand around her, charmed.

ANGLE ON TONY

 

Less charmed, garbed as usual, Tony sits on a coiled-up rope ladder by the door, sunglasses down.

MELANIE AND SOLDIERS

 

Melanie hands the rifle to a Guard.

MELANIE

There you go, honey.

GUARD

Gee, thanks.

(reads inscription)

Oh, gosh, Ms. Marlowe —

Melanie. I can’t carry a rifle

with that on the butt.

MELANIE

Honey, if I’d known it was your butt —

Melanie takes rifle, kisses butt. Soldiers react hilariously.

MELANIE (Cont’d)

So, captain, how much longer before

we get to —

TONY

 

throws a dangerous warning look at Melanie.

MELANIE AND SOLDIERS

 

MELANIE (Cont’d)

— wherever it is we’re going to?

I’m so anxious to show the boys. I

mean, do my show for the boys.

CAPTAIN

We’re pretty near it now, ma’am. We’ll

circle till our decoy lands.

MELANIE

Decoy?

Captain indicates another chopper. Melanie looks out window.

MELANIE’S POV/CHOPPER

 

–draws near. Carstairs, in sexy dress, waves to Melanie.

BACK IN MELANIE’S CHOPPER

 

CAPTAIN

Yes, ma’am, for your protection.

MELANIE

You’re going to make —

(catches herself)

I mean “let” that drag-queen steal

poor little Melanie’s thunder?

CAPTAIN

Well, ma’am, if there’s thunder,

I sure hope so.

Captain and Guards grin at Melanie’s naiveté.

TONY

That “drag-queen” risked his life

to save your ass.

A GUARD

Hey, not in front of a lady!

CAPTAIN

Watch it, Sunday.

TONY

I’m watching it. I just don’t

believe it.

MELANIE

I know what he’s doing, Tony-baby.

Soldiers react to Melanie’s calling Tony “baby.”

MELANIE (Cont’d)

But yesterday I didn’t know.

Tony and Melanie stare at each other. Tension breaks when —

ANGLE ON CABIN

 

— PILOT sticks his head around cabin door.

PILOT

Over destination, skipper.

BACK WITH PASSENGERS

 

MELANIE

We’re there?

CAPTAIN

Yes, ma’am. Down there’s Looing-

Fo Replacements Base.

Captain holds onto Melanie so she can look down on base.

MELANIE’S POV/LOOKING DOWN

EXT. OVER LOOING-FO – DAY – CONTINUOUS

 

A rambling, fenced collection of many buildings with watchtowers at three corners, and at fourth a conspicuous water tower. A horde of SOLDIERS CHEERS arrival of choppers.

BACK IN MELANIE’S CHOPPER

 

Melanie thinks fast. She looks at Tony, sitting on—

MELANIE’S POV/INSIDE CHOPPER

 

–coiled ladder.

MELANIE

 

She looks out door at —

MELANIE’S POV/THE DECOY CHOPPER

 

–where Carstairs stands waving to the troops, utterly exposed.

BACK TO MELANIE’S CHOPPER

 

MELANIE

My, this is just so exciting! I can’t

remember when I’ve been so exhilarated.

Just me all alone with all you brave men.

(Suddenly, sharply, to Tony)

You! Don’t you ever stand in the presence

of a lady?

The Guards guffaw as Tony stands with a mock-courteous bow.

TONY

Excuse me. I thought I was watching

some kind of show.

MELANIE

No sooner said than done.

Holding top rungs of ladder, Melanie waves, “bye-bye,” throws a kiss, and —

Melanie leaps from the helicopter!

LOOING-FO SOLDIERS’ POV/LOOKING UP

 

The three choppers. Melanie leaps from her chopper. The remainder of the rope ladder unreels, leaving Melanie swinging in space with many feet of ladder below her, ending just above Soldiers.

SOLDIERS

 

There’s a collective gasp.

BACK IN MELANIE’S CHOPPER

 

All inhabitants stand frozen, then lunge for door, almost pushing each other out. Tony stands on remaining ladder, preventing further release.

MELANIE’S POV/(LOOKING DOWN)

 

A thousand Soldiers gasp and then CHEER like you never heard!

MELANIE

swings in space, laughing at her own audacity, looks up.

MELANIE’S POV/(LOOKING UP)

Tony and Captain gape at Melanie.

TONY AND CAPTAIN

Motherfuck!

TONY’S POV/MELANIE

–smiles up at Tony over field of Soldiers.

MELANIE

Hey, watch the language. I’m a lady?

CARSTAIR’S CHOPPER

Carstairs gapes at Melanie’s deed, laughs, whips off his wig.

BEGIN INTERCUT

INTERCUT:

(A) Melanie climbing down ladder, grandstanding for Soldiers. Melanie takes high heels from pockets, kicks off her Army shoes, strips off coverall to reveal dazzling cocktail dress.

INTERCUT WITH

(B) Soldiers on field, running back and forth with Melanie’s shadow on them, cheering, waving Melanie to come on down, catching her shoes and coverall.

INTERCUT WITH

(C) Tony and Guards in chopper, trying to reel Melanie in.

INTERCUT WITH

(D) Captain and Pilot in ferocious confab.

INTERCUT WITH

(E) The helicopters overshooting the field and circling back.

INTERCUT WITH

(F) The decoy chopper. Carstairs shakes his head in admiration.

INTERCUT WITH

(G) BRASS on steps of Officer’s Mess at Looing-Fo, fairly scarlet with indignation.

IN MELANIE’S CHOPPER (TO BE INTERSPERSED IN INTERCUT)

PILOT

What should I do, skipper? By which

I mean, what the fuck should I do?

CAPTAIN

Take the day off.

TONY

We can’t reel her in. She’d get smashed

against the pontoons. Lower her down gently.

Trust the boys to catch her.

CAPTAIN

(To pilot)

You heard him. Sunday, you get full

responsibility for this. Enjoy it.

END INTERCUT

EXT. LOOING-FO – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Ladder swings just above the heads of the Soldiers. Melanie’s feet and legs are in view. Soldiers try to grab the ladder.

MELANIE

Take me! I’m yours!

Melanie lets go and falls into their arms. She’s in the cocktail dress, holding high-heeled shoes. Soldiers “body-surf” Melanie clear across the encampment as she laughs in delight.

FOLLOW MELANIE AND SOLDIERS

across the field. She floats on the palms of the Soldiers, across the camp and past a bandstand where MUSICIANS wait. Just behind the bandstand, Melanie is set upright before Brass on the steps of the Officer’s Mess. She stands, breathless but beautiful, before Brass’s collective condemnatory gaze. She smiles “tweetily” at them as she slips her shoes on. She looks up over their heads and sees a sign, “OFFICERS MESS.”

MELANIE

Well, I don’t know about you gentlemen,

but I’m famished. Who wants to mess

with a movie star?

Melanie offers her arm to HIGHEST-RANKING OFFICER. He helplessly takes it and leads her into Mess.

ANGLE ON HELIPAD

Even as Melanie’s chopper touches earth, Tony is out and fighting his way through the raucous Soldiers.

INT. – OFFICER’S MESS – DAY – CONTINUOUS

A long table, splendidly set. Officers stand by their chairs in stunned silence. An ORDERLY holds a chair for Melanie. Melanie sits and turns on the charm before Brass can speak.

MELANIE

You don’t know how that takes it out of

a girl. I hope there’s something for

lunch to put it back into her. Please sit,

gentlemen. I’m on at eleven hundred.

Officers grudgingly sit.

OFFICER

You’ll have time for lunch, Miss Marlowe.

MELANIE

I don’t believe in holding my openings.

OFFICER

We’re afraid show-time has leaked out.

MELANIE

Jinkies, I wonder how?

OFFICER

So we’ve delayed it to 1400 hours.

MELANIE

Oh we have, have we?

OFFICER

In fact, we may have decided to cancel

it altogether.

MELANIE

I’m just picturing you in the altogether.

OFFICER

Miss Marlowe.

MELANIE

Oh, please, you may call me “Ms.”

OFFICER

(just about fed up)

Miss Marlowe. After this ridiculous

breach of security —

MELANIE

Don’t worry about the security of my

breach, Sergeant.

OFFICER

Colonel.

MELANIE

Whatever. There are people out there

waiting for this show. It’s important.

OFFICER

There are things more important than

a cooch-show, Miss Marlowe.

MELANIE

(to Orderly)

What time is it, sugar?

ORDERLY

Uh – ten fifty-six, Ms. Marlowe.

MELANIE

I love you, sugar.

(stands)

Sorry to not-eat and run. Eat each other.

Melanie stalks toward door. Officers gawk, then stand to pursue.

OFFICER

Miss Marlowe!

MELANIE

Miss my ass!

(to Orderly)

Sorry, sugar. You I like.

Melanie shoves the Orderly at the Brass. Brass fall over. She makes the door. Tony is just coming in. Melanie grabs his arm.

MELANIE (Cont’d)

Come on. The service is lousy.

Melanie swings Tony out the door before he can speak.

EXT. OUTSIDE THE OFFICERS’ MESS — DAY — CONTINUOUS

Melanie comes out of the Officers’ Mess and drags the startled Tony through a mob of Soldiers which opens before and closes after Melanie and Tony.

The Brass emerges from the Officers Mess and runs up against the backs of the crowd of Soldiers.

FOLLOW TONY AND MELANIE THROUGH CROWD

TONY

You could have been killed.

MELANIE

Beverly Hills Debutante Gymnastics

Champion.

TONY

What do you think you’re doing?

MELANIE

A matinee!

Soldiers help Melanie and Tony up wooden steps onto the bandstand prepared for her show.

ONSTAGE

Melanie drags Tony past waiting Musicians. In passing, she clicks “on” such electric instruments and loudspeakers as she passes. FEEDBACK HOWLS. There is an answering HOWL from —

EXT. THE STAGE – DAY – CONTINUOUS

— the vast mob of Soldiers ranked as far as the eye can see, waiting for the show. In b.g. the water tower is conspicuous.

ANGLE ON STEPS

The Brass makes its way through Soldiers to the steps, and would climb them, but they are stopped by the CHEERS of the Soldiers as –

ONSTAGE

Melanie comes into full view, leading Tony. The wall of SOUND from Soldiers terrifies him. He holds back. She turns to him.

MELANIE

Welcome to my world.

Tony breaks her grip and flees. Melanie shrugs. She shades her eyes and scans the Soldiers as if looking for a replacement.

MELANIE’S POV/THE SOLDIERS

Soldiers, of course, stand, SCREAM, “Me! Me!”

ANGLE ON STEPS

Tony reaches steps, faces angry Brass, retreats to stand by a Drummer and watch the show.

ONSTAGE

Melanie mimes not being able to choose and spreads her arms to embrace all the Soldiers. As they CHEER even louder, if possible, Melanie goes to a mike and taps it. It’s on.

MELANIE

Testes! Testes! Are you there?

They tried to make me eat with the

brass, but I told ’em, “I’d rather

mess with your privates.” Band?

BAND MEMBERS

Here, Melanie.

MELANIE

Watch my rear.

As APPLAUSE dies down, Melanie chats with Soldiers over mike.

MELANIE

Where are you fellas from?

They SHOUT hundreds of town and state names.

MELANIE

You know where I’m from?

A SOLDIER

Heaven!

MELANIE

If I am, I’m a long way from home.

We all are. A long ways from where

we’d like to be, where we ought to be,

where we could be if we all worked together.

Soldiers sense her seriousness, become quiet as she speaks on.

MELANIE (Cont’d)

No one can know the respect and the

gratitude I feel for all you boys —

for ALL boys fighting strangers far

from home — or even those who are near home, caught in a war we all just wish would end.

Melanie turns to face Tony upstage.

MELANIE (Cont’d)

That’s why I’m here, if you’d like

to know. Because I really care

about, really love you.

TONY

Baffled, as you may imagine.

Turns to face Audience again.

MELANIE (Cont’d)

And you! And you! And you!

ANGLE UPSTAGE — TONY AND BRASS

OFFICER

Is she always this unpredictable?

TONY

I don’t know. I don’t know

what the hell she’s doing.

SOLDIERS

CHEER.

ONSTAGE

Melanie backs ‘way upstage until she’s by Tony. With a straight face, she grabs Tony’s arm and checks his watch.

MELANIE

Okay, we’ve got one minute.

Melanie struts back downstage, out of frame.

TONY

Till what?

TONY’S POV/SCAN CAMP

Tony scans the jungled hills, the water-tower, the enthralled Soldiers, Melanie trying to hush them. His gaze ends on –

THE CHOPPER CREWS

— including Carstairs, wig off and an Army coat over his shoulders, but still in make-up and drag, enjoying the show.

BACK TO TONY

Anxiety, suspicion, frustration, irritation.

ONSTAGE

Melanie kneels to talk to ringside Soldier.

MELANIE

(holding boy’s hand)

Where you from, angel-eyes?

SOLDIER

Uh — Corpus Christi, Texas, ma’am.

MELANIE

(examines boy’s watch)

And what time is it in Uh-Corpus-Christi?

SOLDIER

Uh – ah – fifteen hours earlier, ma’am.

MELANIE

Well, that means it’s eight last

night there, then, because —

(portentously)

— it’s precisely eleven a.m. here,

so I guess it’s just — about — time —

for — me — to —

ANGLE UPSTAGE

Tony, anxious, runs up on stage. FOLLOW TONY up to mike where

Melanie says —

MELANIE (Cont’d)

(tweety)

— sing a song for you!

Tony screeches to a stop onstage, feeling rather foolish. Melanie makes Tony a part of the act.

MELANIE (Cont’d)

What’s a matter, Tony? Got a request?

This is Tony Sunday, guys. Tony guards

my body. Ooooooo. They just couldn’t

find anyone else willing to take on the job!

Tony would leave. Melanie gently restrains him.

MELANIE (Cont’d)

I make Tony want to go. Funny — I usually

have the opposite effect on men. Tony wants to

protect me — I don’t know from what.

I guess he’s just supposed to be with me

in case anything comes down.

(lets a strap fall)

So I’ll just dedicate this song to

Tony, my constant companion.

(for benefit of Musicians)

Tony, “Make A Date With Me?”

Soldiers HOWL. This is clearly a signature song of Melanie’s.

To Tony’s embarrassment, Melanie sings to him:

MELANIE

(sings)

Come on, cutie, make a date with me.

Name the time and place.

Any other guy would eagerly

Get right in my face.

Don’t be indefinite, don’t be late.

Let’s get something firm and straight.

Between us. For Heaven’s sake,

Make a date with me!

Melanie releases the humiliated Tony, who escapes upstage. Melanie does a little dance between choruses. She begins to sing again, stumbling awkwardly on some lyrics.

MELANIE

Come on, beauty, make a date with me.

Let’s see, where shall we meet?

Don’t be mean to Melanie.

Uh – I don’t know the names of these camp streets.

(dances briefly)

UPSTAGE

Tony overhears as Drummer talks with Bassist.

DRUMMER

What’s that, special material? Or

is she losing it?

BASSIST

Never heard those words before. I

think she’s improvising.

Tony perks up his ears.

ONSTAGE

Melanie, dancing, looks all around, obviously gets an idea.

MELANIE

(sings)

Oh, I’ve got the spot. I’ve got the hour!

Midnight on the dot! By the water tower!

Melanie starts dancing freely, as if released.

UPSTAGE

Tony looks hard from —

TONY’S POV/SCAN

— the camp water tower, to Carstairs, to Melanie.

TONY

desperately tries to put two and two together as

MELANIE

carries on.

MELANIE (Cont’d)

Don’t give in to doubt.

Three strikes and you’re out!

Soldiers SING tag-line along with Melanie.

MELANIE AND SOLDIERS

Don’t give in to doubt.

Three strikes and you’re out, etc.

Melanie dances with a pleased, secretive look on her face, free as a bird.

CUT BACK AND FORTH BETWEEN TONY AND MELANIE

Melanie gives Tony private glances as she dances.

Tony is baffled. What exactly is Melanie up to?

FADE OUT. EXT. GUEST’S QUARTERS, LOOING-FO – (THAT) NIGHT

Barbed wire fence. A sign that reads “LOOING-FO BASE GUEST QUARTERS.” A GUARD stands watch. The Guest Quarters consists of a long Quonset hut. One window is lit. Simultaneously, WE HEAR:

MELANIE (VO)

I did not say that.

TONY (VO)

Yes, you did!

MELANIE (VO)

I did not. I did not.

TONY (VO)

You most certainly did!

CUT TO:

 

INT. GUEST QUARTERS – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

BIG CLOSE UP – MELANIE

Melanie’s without make-up, hair tied starkly back.

MELANIE (Cont’d)

I did not say that this is a prison.

I said it has certain characteristics

in common with a prison!

JUMP BACK TO REVEAL

dismal room in the Quonset hut. Minimal accommodations. Melanie sits on bed in pajamas. Tony paces back and forth. They’ve been arguing a while.

 

TONY

Do you have any idea what kind of

trouble you can cause talking like that?

MELANIE

(some concern)

Trouble for you, Tony?

TONY

Don’t flatter yourself you could make

trouble for me.

MELANIE

(sincerely)

Good. I wouldn’t want that. Honest.

TONY

Nobody would blame me for anything unless

you got away from here —

MELANIE

Aha! “Got away!” It is a prison and you

know it!

TONY

No, it is a war!

MELANIE

It is supposedly a war against tyranny and

oppression, and yet the alleged champions

of freedom restrict me against my will!

TONY

Well, Jesus, God, Allah, Confucius, and Buddha!

You mean there’s some place where you can’t do

just what you want to every livelong minute? Stop the press! Declare a miracle! Issue a stamp!

CUT TO:

INT. HALLWAY OF GUEST QUARTERS – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

A young GUARD stands watch at Melanie’s door. With him, WE HEAR MELANIE AND TONY quarreling, but no words are clear. Guard looks bewildered.

CUT TO:

INT. MELANIE’S QUARTERS – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

TONY

That shit you pulled today! You could

have got yourself killed.

MELANIE

Oh, nonsense. They’re not out to kill me.

TONY

(leaping on it)

They who? How do you know?

Melanie realizes she’s slipped, retreats to safer ground.

MELANIE

You just think I’m a spoiled brat.

TONY

You don’t know what I think, and yes,

you are!

MELANIE

All my life I’ve been imprisoned.

My parents, producers, the studio!

YOU should understand.

TONY

You Beverly Hills bitch! You dare compare

your Freudian fantasyland with the fucking

nightmare my people live in?

Melanie reacts with painful pity to his mention of “my people.” She conceals her pity. Then she gets an idea.

MELANIE

(considering a scheme)

Tony… do you have any relatives left?

TONY

(too angry to get wise)

I got relatives left, I got relatives

right, I got relatives in the middle

of the road — under tank treads!

MELANIE

Anyone who would miss you?

TONY

Everyone’s missed so far. That’s

why I’m alive.

MELANIE

You don’t know anything about me!

TONY

I know ‘way more about you than you

know about real life!

MELANIE

Then show me! Quit beating me up and

show me!

(turns on the tears)

Quit punishing me for being born rich

and famous and beautiful and lucky!

TONY

Hey, don’t. Don’t do that. Come on.

Melanie weeps. Tony sits on bed beside Melanie.

MELANIE

Look, get me out of this asylum for an

hour, okay? Despite what I said about

imprisonment, I was never actually locked

up like this. It’s got me looney.

TONY

You poor kid. You got demons inside

you too, don’t you? You know what you

do? You hide them too well. Hey,

maybe you really can act.

MELANIE

Of course I can act. You don’t think

anybody’s actually tweety, do you?

(man-to-man)

Look, you know this camp. You probably

even know the jungle, right? You’d be

safe, no matter what?

TONY

I done some smuggling, yeah.

MELANIE

Let’s get out and see the camp.

TONY

(musing)

There’s no action around here…

MELANIE

I’m not looking for sex!

TONY

I mean no enemy action. That’s why the

replacement base is here. But I could

probably scare up an all-night poker

game for you.

MELANIE

Oh, that would be so much fun! Let’s

do that! Where do you suppose they play?

In the barracks? In the cook house?

Melanie’s being adorable. Tony’s buying it, until she adds —

MELANIE (Cont’d)

Under the water tower?

It comes together for Tony. He manages to cover his reaction to Melanie’s “slip”.

TONY

Maybe…

MELANIE

(too quickly)

Or wherever. Let me get dressed.

Melanie hops up and grabs clothes.

Tony ponders a scheme of his own.

TONY

Yeah. I’ll go work it. We should

hurry. It’s nearly midnight.

MELANIE

(just reacts to this)

Is it? I’ll hurry.

TONY

(at door)

You do that. I’ll be right back.

INT. THE HALLWAY BEFORE MELANIE’S ROOM – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

GUARD present. Tony comes out of Melanie’s room. Guard snaps to. Tony closes door.

TONY

Hey, how ya doin’?

GUARD

Fine, SIR!

TONY

Lay off. I’m hired help. Have a smoke.

(offers cigarettes)

GUARD

On duty, SIR!

Tony continues to hold the cigarette pack throughout scene.

TONY

Please, “Tony.”

GUARD

(flattered)

Tony.

TONY

Look, you could be the boy I’m lookin’

for. I need a friend. Know what I mean?

GUARD

No, sir. Tony.

TONY

Sure you do. You like Miss Marlowe?

GUARD

Oh, crap, she’s beautiful. Sir. Tony.

TONY

Well, I’m gonna tell you somethin’ man-to-man.

Get me?

GUARD

No – Tony, sir.

TONY

Sure you do. Here in this alien land,

Miss Marlowe is feelin’ lonely, understand?

GUARD

Not absolutely.

TONY

God, you’re gonna get this outa me, ain’t cha?

See, if I can get alone with Miss Marlowe, I

think I can get in there. You understand, right?

GUARD

Sure, crap, I understand that.

TONY

But as you’ve figured out for yourself, Miss

Marlowe, due to her celebrity, is shy of having

people know when she is up to what we’re talkin’ about. Understand?

GUARD

Oh, crap, sure.

TONY

So if you could have a small call of nature

for, say, an hour..?

GUARD

Oh, crap, I don’t know…

TONY

I might not need the whole hour, it being

the most beautiful woman in the world

salivatin’ for it right inside that door…

Guard hesitates, torn. Tony closes in for the kill.

TONY (Cont’d)

And she’s gonna want somethin’ else for the

remainder of that hour. Do you follow me?

You. Follow. Me.

GUARD

Me and Melanie Marlowe? Crap!

TONY

Hey, don’t lose it now. You’ll need it.

GUARD

If the captain of the guard came by —

TONY

We’ll fit ‘im in. You know what these

Hollywood women are like.

GUARD

My mama always said.

TONY

Mama was right.

GUARD

Crap. Where would I go?

TONY

(indicates across the hall)

My room’s right there.

GUARD

Crap. I could wait there. If you’re

sure.

Tony punches top of cigarette pack.

TONY

Okay. Got that on tape.

GUARD

What did you —

TONY

(displays cigarette pack)

C.I.A. issue. Neat, hey?

GUARD

You got me on tape saying —

Tony pockets cigarette case.

TONY

–you’d leave your post in wartime, right.

Now shall we talk?

GUARD’S FACE

Guard is red, terrified, stymied under his helmet.

GUARD

Crap.

MATCH CUT TO:

INT. TONY’S ROOM – NIGHT – (A FEW MINUTES) LATER

GUARD’S FACE

Sad, terrified, without helmet.

PULL BACK THROUGH DOOR INTO HALLWAY TO REVEAL

Guard sits naked on bed. Tony at door holds Guard’s uniform bundled in his arms.

TONY

Get yourself ready, kid. These stars

ain’t used to waitin’ for that Oscar.

Tony closes door, crosses hallway to Melanie’s door, knocks.

MELANIE (VO)

No autographs.

TONY

It’s for my little girl with asthma.

Melanie opens door. She’s wearing jeans and plaid shirt.

TONY

Got your party duds, Cinderella.

Tony enters, closes door.

CUT TO:

EXT. GUEST QUARTERS – GATE – NIGHT – (A LITTLE) LATER

GATE GUARD at his post. Melanie, in other Guard’s uniform, doing a very good characterization, walks past him.

MELANIE (Male voice)

Crap, they’ll be screwin’ all night.

Want coffee?

GATE GUARD

Got a joint, thanks.

Melanie goes. Gate Guard shakes his head. These Hollywood people!

Tony saunters down walk past Gate Guard.

TONY

Gotta go refuel. Want coffee?

GATE GUARD

Got a joint. Thanks, Tony.

Tony saunters away. Gate Guard shakes his head.

CUT TO:

EXT. CAMP GROUNDS – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Dark, silent, deserted. Melanie waits, plastered to a wall. Tony appears, grabs her hand, shushes her. They run away.

FOLLOW TONY AND MELANIE

as they dart and dodge. FEATURE Tony confidently pointing the way for Melanie like a bragging boy. All very fun and innocent.

CUT TO:

EXT. DARK CORNER OF CAMP – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

A structure of posts and trestles. Could be under the water tower but isn’t. Fence visible past structure. Bushes beyond. Tony and Melanie scuttle to hide among posts. Melanie GIGGLES. Tony SHUSHES her. They hunker on the ground. They WHISPER.

MELANIE

Crap, that was fun.

TONY

Fun’s just beginning.

MELANIE

Is this the water tower?

TONY

Sorry, no poker game.

MELANIE

(checks Tony’s watch)

We don’t have much time.

TONY

Whatever do you mean?

Melanie takes off helmet, starts shedding uniform. Plaid shirt and jeans under it. Tony takes cigarettes from shirt-pocket.

MELANIE

Well, that boy will get wise eventually.

TONY

Not during this administration.

What are you doing?

MELANIE

Getting comfortable.

TONY

(gets cigarette in mouth)

What for?

MELANIE

You’ve been wonderful to me.

TONY

I pimp for a living.

MELANIE

(shakes famous hair free)

May I audition?

TONY

(fumbles for lighter)

I’m not hiring right now.

MELANIE

I want you to remember me.

Melanie snuggles close to Tony. Quite close. Tony fumbles with “Bic lighter” (actually a pack of gum).

TONY

I don’t hire amateurs.

MELANIE

I make you nervous, don’t I?

TONY

In your dreams.

MELANIE

Then why are you trying to light that

cigarette with a pack of gum?

Tony throws gum away, takes out lighter.

MELANIE (Cont’d)

Here, let Melanie.

Melanie lights Tony’s cigarette. Tony draws on it, staring at Melanie. Melanie clicks lighter three times.

TONY

What are you up to?

MELANIE

I’m up to three.

Melanie clicks lighter again, three times.

TONY

What’s our time frame?

MELANIE

Close to midnight. Kiss me before

I turn into a pumpkin.

Melanie clicks lighter again. Tony grabs her hand, roughly.

TONY

Fuck me before I turn into a bumpkin.

What happens at midnight under the water tower?

MELANIE

(struggling)

You get a lot of drips? What do you mean?

TONY

I mean whoever you were planning to meet

is fucked in a whole new way.

MELANIE

(stops struggling)

My, my, my.

TONY

Your boyfriend will have to make himself

at home. We are under a guard tower, at

the opposite corner of the base from the

water tower.

CUT TO:

EXT. GUARD TOWER – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

On stilts high above the ground. Two GUARDS wearing Walkmen are not about to hear anything whispered right under them.

CUT TO:

EXT. UNDER THE GUARD TOWER – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

TONY

You were sending out signals to someone

today. Who? And for what?

MELANIE

(fondly, sadly)

Oh, Tony, I was sending out mixed

signals. You got the wrong one.

Remember? “Three strikes?”

Melanie clicks Bic three times. Tony grabs the lighter, angrily, shoves it into his pocket. O.S. RUSTLING IN BUSHES.

MELANIE(cont’d)

And unfortunately, you’re out.

TONY

You fucked-up Hollywood —

A gloved hand covers Tony’s mouth.

QUICK SERIES OF BIG CLOSE-UPS OF TONY AND MELANIE

MELANIE

Another gloved hand covers Melanie’s mouth.

TONY

blinks in surprise.

MELANIE

looks at Tony.

TONY

struggles.

MELANIE

has eyes only for Tony.

TONY

struggles.

MELANIE

bites hand over her mouth. It is removed for a second.

MELANIE

Don’t hurt him!

Hand muffles Melanie’s mouth again.

TONY

gives Melanie a quizzical glance before something knocks him out.

CROSS-DISSOLVE TO:

INT. REBEL TENT – NIGHT – (SOME HOURS) LATER

BIG CLOSE UP

MELANIE

Tony? Tony?

ANGLE ON TONY

bound, on dirt floor of tent, tethered loosely to tent pole. He comes to.

WIDER ON TONY AND MELANIE

Tony lies against tent post. Melanie squats beside him, cleans his face. Legs of TWO REBEL SOLDIERS (TENT GUARDS) behind Melanie.

TONY

What in Hell are you doing?

MELANIE

I in Hell am worrying about you.

TONY

Where, when, what, who, how, why?

MELANIE

They weren’t supposed to take you.

Don’t worry. You won’t be harmed.

TONY

I been hit on the head. I been harmed.

MELANIE

They don’t want you.

TONY

How do they treat people they do

want? They who?

SOUND OF TENT FLAP. CAMP NOISES O.S. briefly increase. Tent Guards’ legs snap to attention. Tony turns his head to see —

TONY’S POV/REBEL LEADER

–including Tent Guards. REBEL LEADER enters tent. He’s an uglier-than-usual customer.

TONY

TONY

Oh, shit, the ruttin’ rebels. We’re

raped and dismembered.

TONY’S POV/REBEL LEADER’S HANDS

–take hold of Melanie’s shoulders.

TONY

Tony screams and throws himself about.

TONY

No, goddamit, no! Leave her the

fuck alone!

WIDER ON WHOLE GROUP

Tent Guard raises rifle to bonk Tony with its butt. Melanie sternly grabs Tent Guard’s arm.

MELANIE

No!

(To Rebel Leader)

No harm is to come to him.

REBEL LEADER

Okay. Sorry, Tony.

MELANIE

(to Rebel Leader)

Just so that’s understood. Let’s go.

A Tent Guard holds back tent flap. ROWDY CAMP NOISES O.S. Rebel Leader goes to flap and beckons Melanie to follow him.

TONY

Wait! What are you doing? Where

are you going? You don’t know what

these animals are. They crucify their captives!

TONY’S POV/MELANIE’S FACE

–beautiful, caring. Her hand caresses Tony’s face.

MELANIE

Don’t worry about me, Tony. I’m not

a captive…

Melanie stands, revealing that she wears Rebel uniform.

MELANIE (cont’d)

…I’m a defector.

Melanie, Rebel Leader, and Soldiers leave. Tent flap closes behind them.

ANGLE ON TONY

Tony is stunned, trying to think of a comeback to that. Tony rolls over as near to tent flap as his tether allows. He can just reach far enough to lie on his belly and see under flap —

TONY’S POV/UNDER FLAP

EXT. REBEL CAMP – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

tents around a flickering campfire. RAUCOUS CAMP NOISES. REBELS move about in obvious busy preparations for something.

Melanie and Rebel Leader stand with TWO REBEL SOLDIERS who hold TWO BUDDHIST PRIESTS by their arms. The two Tent Guards stand with the group, rifles ready. Melanie and Rebel Leader TALK heatedly. Their words cannot be distinguished.

TONY

trying to hear and see.

TONY’S POV/UNDER FLAP

Melanie’s conversation with the Rebel Leader grows more heated. The Tent Guards grab her. Rebel Soldiers drag Priests away. OTHER REBEL SOLDIERS follow. Tent Guards drag Melanie away. She screams:

MELANIE

No! Don’t! You can’t do this!

This wasn’t in the bargain!

You two-timing, welching son of a

bitch! You can’t do this! This is

inhuman!

Tent Guards drag Melanie out of sight, still screaming.

TONY

struggles futilely against his bonds.

TONY

Melanie! Melanie!

MELANIE (O.S.)

Tony! Don’t let them do this! Help

me! Stop them! Help me!

BACK TO TONY’S POV/UNDER FLAP

Rebel Leader stares O.S. where Melanie and Priests have gone. He glances briefly at Tony, then follows Melanie and Priests, yells:

REBEL LEADER

Tie them to the stakes!

Rebel Leader walks out of frame. All the Rebels in the camp follow him, YELLING with fiendish glee. MELANIE’S VOICE continues VO, incoherent to Tony and us.

TONY

struggles, screams.

TONY

Melanie! Melanie! You hurt her and

I’ll eat your gizzards! Melanie!

REBEL LEADER (O.S.)

Ready. Aim. Fire!

BARRAGE OF GUNFIRE

TONY

stops, stunned, then thrashes, only tangling himself in tether.

TONY

Bastards! Fuckers! Murderers!

Son-of-a-bitching prehistoric,

shit-eating —

Tony’s tirade is cut short as a FIGURE in Rebel uniform seems to leap through the tent flaps at him, striking him full force.

Tony and the Figure roll about on the dirt floor.

TONY (Cont’d)

You don’t kill me that easy, you

pus-sucking, baby-buggering, nun-

raping, garbage-brained —

The Figure detaches itself from Tony. It’s Melanie, looking messy. Melanie starts instantly to work on Tony’s ropes.

MELANIE

Keep talking. They deserve it.

TONY

You’re alive!

MELANIE

They shot the priests!

TONY

What priests?

MELANIE

Shut up! How does this come undone?

TONY

Knife. In my pocket. Cigarette

lighter.

Melanie quizzically takes out Tony’s cigarette lighter.

TONY

Make the flame higher.

Melanie turns the little flame-height dial. A blade snaps out of the bottom of the lighter. Melanie blinks, but instantly starts cutting Tony’s ropes.

MELANIE

Cute. They didn’t take it.

TONY

They’re soldiers. They’re stupid.

(gets a hand free)

Gimme that.

(takes knife, saws)

MELANIE

Let me help.

Melanie takes switchblade from her pants, helps cut Tony’s bonds.

Tony is surprised by the knife.

TONY

Where’d you get that?

MELANIE

While they were dragging me. They’re

soldiers. They’re stupid.

TONY

(freed, shakes off ropes)

Who were the priests?

MELANIE

Later. Lock arms.

Melanie holds out her right arm. Tony automatically links it with his left. Melanie has her knife in her left hand, Tony has his in his right. Melanie nods at —

ANGLE ON FRONT TENT WALL

— the shadows of two Tent Guards.

MELANIE

MELANIE (cont’d)

Aim for the nape of the neck.

TONY

looks at Guards’ shadows, looks at his and Melanie’s knives, obviously poised to stab Guards, looks at

MELANIE

MELANIE (cont’d)

They shot the priests.

WIDER

Tony hesitates only for a second, then nods in agreement. Tony and Melanie barrel forward, knives poised at neck height.

CUT TO:

EXT. THE TENT – CONTINUOUS

The Tent Guards flanking the tent flap suddenly jerk, jerk again, fall silently.

BACK IN THE TENT

Tony and Melanie give one more jab, withdraw their knives. Tony looks at Melanie for an instant. Melanie wipes her knife clean on her pants and stows it. Tony shrugs and does the same. They peek out tent-flap.

TONY AND MELANIE’S POV/CAMP

SCREAMING Rebels drag Priests’ bodies away. No one is looking at a dinky prisoners’ tent.

CUT TO:

EXT. TENT – CONTINUOUS

In foreground, last few Rebels run right past tent.

CLOSER ON

front of tent. Melanie (remember she’s wearing Rebel uniform) emerges. She quickly puts on dead Guard’s cap to hide her face. She takes dead Guards’ ammo belts. Tony emerges and takes their guns. Tony looks nervously where Rebels have gone, then longingly in opposite direction. He holds out his hand for Melanie’s. She takes a rifle. She strips jacket and cap off one Guard, slaps cap on Tony. She shoves Guard’s jacket at Tony, and starts off other way than Rebels into jungle. Tony follows her.

CUT TO:

EXT. THE JUNGLE – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Moonlit and scary. Distant CRIES OF REBELS O.S. Tony and Melanie crash through vegetation. Tony struggles into Rebel jacket, Melanie into ammo belts. FOLLOW THEM into comparative safety of some bushes. Melanie points off.

MELANIE

Okay. Looing-Fo is that way?

TONY

Yeah. Come on. Let’s go.

MELANIE

Get on back to Looing-Fo, Tony.

You’ll be okay. You know the jungle.

TONY

What are you talking about?

MELANIE

We won’t be safe here for long.

Get going.

TONY

Leave you here?

MELANIE

I know what I’m doing.

REBEL CRIES O.S. grow LOUDER and NEARER.

MELANIE (Cont’d)

Don’t be difficult.

TONY

I’m staying with you….I’ve

been paid.

He shows his clip. She shrugs and heads back toward camp.

TONY

(hoarse whisper)

Melanie, that’s the way back to the camp!

Tony runs after Melanie.

CUT TO:

EXT. BEHIND PRISONERS’ TENT – NIGHT – SECONDS LATER

Melanie crawls on ground behind tent. Rebel CRIES O.S. very near. Tony comes out of brush, sees Melanie and tent.

TONY

This is insane.

With a jerk, Melanie drags Tony down beside her, shushes him.

ANGLE BEHIND TONY AND MELANIE

Tony and Melanie lie behind tent. Shadows of Rebel Leader and Soldiers on tent wall. Tony flinches. Melanie whops Tony.

REBEL LEADER (O.S.)

She’s gone! The Hollywood whore

is loose! Find her!

Shadows leave tent.

TONY AND MELANIE

Melanie starts crawling under tent wall to get into tent. Tony grabs Melanie’s leg.

TONY

What are you doing?

MELANIE

It’s the one place they won’t

look for us.

Tony makes face which admits this is clever thinking. Tony lets go Melanie’s leg and scuttles in after her.

CUT TO:

INT. PRISONER’S TENT – CONTINUOUS

Melanie crawls into tent, stands. Tony scuttles in after her, stands.

MELANIE

Shush.

Melanie peeps through tent flap.

EXT. TENT – CONTINUOUS

Melanie peeps through flap. She ignores Guards’ bodies.

MELANIE’S POV/CAMP

Soldiers run off in all directions, leaving camp deserted.

IN TENT

Tony pulls Melanie back from flap.

MELANIE

Okay, I think the radio tent is directly across from us.

TONY

We don’t need it. I’ll get you back.

MELANIE

Go back yourself, unless you can run

a radio better than I can.

TONY

You’re insane. Everyone monitors all

frequencies.

MELANIE

Ever hear of code?

EXT. TENT – CONTINUOUS

Melanie, clutching gun, whizzes out of tent across camp.

INT. TENT – CONTINUOUS

Tony stands with his hand empty where he was supposed to be clutching Melanie. He blinks, looks at gun in other hand.

He shakes his head violently, dismisses the whole situation, heads for back of tent. Stops.

TONY

Oh, Christ, she has the ammunition!

CUT TO:

INT. RADIO TENT – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Primitive. RADIOMAN sits on floor with earphones on amidst sparse radio equipment. He looks up.

RADIOMAN’S POV/TENT FLAP

Melanie, cap over face, bursts in brandishing gun.

RADIOMAN

looks up, reaches for gun on the floor.

RADIOMAN’S POV/MELANIE

–whips off cap, loosing her famous hair, smiles.

WIDER

Radioman hesitates. Melanie whams gun butt on his head, dons earphones. A hand grabs her shoulder. She swings gun. Tony jumps over gun and kneels. She hands him earphones.

MELANIE

He was listening to Guns and Roses.

TONY

He’s suffered enough.

MELANIE

Run this thing?

TONY

First tell me why.

Melanie raises her gun, but Tony’s is in her face first. Pause.

MELANIE

To alert my rescue team.

TONY

Tell me more. Start with who.

MELANIE

(pause)

It’s the Thainians.

TONY

Tell me why.

MELANIE

They bought me from the Rebels.

The priests were my escort.

TONY

Tell me what went wrong?

MELANIE

They wanted more money.

TONY

The rebels?

MELANIE

The priests. Help me.

TONY

Tell me why I should.

MELANIE

To save our lives.

TONY

I can save myself.

MELANIE

Out of pity for me?

TONY

I am out of pity for you.

MELANIE

…To get the rest of the story?

TONY

Deal. Who do I call?

MELANIE

Frequency seventeen seventy-six.

TONY

Cute. What do I use? Morse?

MELANIE

Voice. Say, “Same song, second verse.”

TONY

(shoves mike at her)

You say.

MELANIE

Tell me why.

TONY

I prefer to remain nonpolitical.

MELANIE

(into mike)

Same song, second verse. Same

song, second verse.

TONY

How do they acknowledge?

MELANIE

They meet me at a rendezvous.

TONY

Which is…?

MELANIE

Mak-Vo Mountain.

TONY

(wryly)

Dandy.

MELANIE

Let’s move.

TONY

Let’s not.

MELANIE

We can’t stay here. They’ll kill you.

TONY

Please. They know and love me.

Why would they kill me?

MELANIE

Because you raped me.

TONY

I never.

MELANIE

I’ll say you did.

TONY

Why would they care?

MELANIE

They don’t get paid if I’m raped.

TONY

You’re vicious.

MELANIE

Hollywood.

Melanie stands, quite confident, goes to tent flap.

MELANIE

Coming?

TONY

(rises)

In my pants.

EXT. RADIO TENT – CONTINUOUS

Melanie and Tony come out of tent. REBEL VOICES O.S. in jungle.

TONY

Game plan?

MELANIE

Keep your face down and act like

you’re looking for me.

A few Rebel Soldiers criss-cross the clearing on search. Tony and Melanie merge with Rebels and disappear into the jungle.

CUT TO:

EXT. THE JUNGLE – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Tony and Melanie move through the jungle. Rebel Soldiers flit past in all directions, waving flashlights and SHOUTING.

REBEL SOLDIERS

(variously)

Not here! Over here! Look here!

It’s a nightmare of identical Soldiers in the brush. Tony and Melanie run among them. We can’t tell them from Soldiers.

TONY

stops, crouches to reconnoiter. Tony holds out his hand and grabs another hand. A flashlight strikes Tony’s face.

REBEL SOLDIER

whose hand Tony holds.

REBEL SOLDIER

Ah!

(grunts)

Aaaaaaah.

Soldier falls to reveal Melanie, who’s gun-butted him. She holds out her hand. Tony takes it and they flee through the bewildering search party. Soldiers cross in every direction.

CROSS-DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. ESTABLISHING – MAK-VO MOUNTAIN – (NEXT) DAY

Dawn. Hoary mountain thrusting out of jungle.

CUT TO:

EXT. PATH ON MAK-VO MOUNTAIN – CONTINUOUS

FOLLOW TONY AND MELANIE

Tony leads Melanie up winding path through thick overgrowth. They’re tired, dirty, dragging guns.

MELANIE

I’m afraid of booby traps.

TONY

Do you know what Mak-Vo means?

MELANIE

Do I need to know what Mak-Vo means?

TONY

It means “Liberty Mountain.” There were whorehouses here. It was a “combat-free zone.” Probably no booby-traps.

MELANIE

You know it well?

TONY

I was probably born here.

MELANIE

Do you have any relatives left?

TONY

I got relatives left, I got relatives

right, relatives in the middle of the road —

MELANIE

— because both sides are probably booby-trapped?

TONY

Listen, get me kidnapped, get me beat

to shit, ruin my independent reputation,

but nobody steps on my jokes.

STOP as Tony and Melanie come to —

EXT. CLEARING – CONTINUOUS

— a large, dilapidated hut, once a bar, stands with an old sign hanging half-loose, reading “LIBERTY BAR” in several languages.

TONY

Okay, we’re here. Now what?

Melanie becomes urgent, nervous, wary.

MELANIE

Now you cut out. I’m safe. Please, go.

TONY

I think not. You promised me the

whole story.

MELANIE

You’ll know soon. Please leave.

TONY

You don’t know my whole story, either.

MELANIE

What does that mean?

Tony grabs Melanie, expertly disarms her, holds gun to her head.

MELANIE (Cont’d)

Tony!

TONY

You may call me, “Bastard.”

(yells)

Okay, all-y all-y out can come in

free! Show yo-selves or the bananas

get spattered with bimbo brains!

TONY’S POV/JUNGLE

Out of the bushes appear a couple of dozen SOLDIERS FROM ALL SIDES, except Rebels, all with drawn weapons. All wear their own uniforms, plus an armband with an Oriental insignia on it.

TONY

looks at Melanie with satisfaction.

TONY

Why, it’s a Rainbow Coalition! Nice to

see all you fellas playing together.

But what are we playing?

LOUD NOISE O.S. draws Tony’s attention.

CUT BACK TO REVEAL:

The walls and roof of the bar building shake, send dust billowing, then fall off and blow away to reveal a huge helicopter, its blades starting to spin. The helicopter bears the same Oriental insignia as the Soldiers’ armbands.

TONY AND MELANIE

TONY

Your magic carpet, I believe.

Take off your belt and tie us together.

(at her hesitation)

To use a tiresome television cliché: “Just do it!”

Melanie obeys, binds one of her wrists to Tony’s free one.

WIDER

Soldiers make as if to advance, but

TONY

presses his gun against Melanie’s head, and the

SOLDIERS

step back like the monsters in the hive in “Aliens.”

TONY AND MELANIE

Once he’s bound to Melanie —

TONY

(to soldiers)

Okay, take me to your leader. Or

better yet, bring your leader to me.

I’m bushed.

TONY’S POV/HELICOPTER

CHIANG

TONY

is genuinely surprised for once.

CHIANG

COMES TO Tony and Melanie, utterly unafraid, but clearly miffed.

TONY

Ah, the father of my country. Chiang,

you owe me for those Cuban cigars.

CHIANG

Tony, why are you doing this?

TONY

(mock-Asian accent)

I was educated in your country.

(straight)

Naw, I just want the loot. Clearly

there’s a bundle for Miss Boobs, and

I’ve delivered her.

CHIANG

Fair enough. Let her go and I’ll

see you get paid by the usual route.

TONY

I don’t want the usual cuts to disappear

from it. You can deliver me and my sweet-

heart to the U.N. together. I’ll assume you’re getting more for her than you’re

paying me, but I won’t complain, after

what happened to the good priests. Besides, you seem to have a payroll to meet.

CHIANG

Let her go, Tony. We’re not taking her

to the U.N.

TONY

Why? Who pays better?

CHIANG

I do. I’m taking her to Ank-Var.

TONY

(confused)

Ank-Var? Ank-Var is in the hands of

the Rebels —

CHIANG

sighs and makes a signal.

BUSHES

A few Rebel Soldiers (also wearing the Oriental armband) step out of hiding.

TONY, MELANIE, & CHIANG

TONY (Cont’d)

— who turn out to be in your hands.

Chiang, what is up?

CHIANG

Something important to all mankind,

Tony. Now let her go. You know you

won’t kill her.

TONY

And you won’t kill me, or

who’d get the Victoria’s Secret outfits for your girlfriends?

I’m coming with you.

A Guard holds out a wristwatch for Chiang to see.

CHIANG

Very well. Get her in the machine.

WIDER

Soldiers ready helicopter.

TONY, MELANIE, AND CHIANG

FOLLOW THEM as Tony and Melanie, bound together, his gun at her head, enter the helicopter. Tony, in doorway, stops and says —

TONY

And remember — if I go out, she

goes out.

CHIANG

shakes his head as at a petty annoyance, enters the helicopter after Tony and Melanie.

 

FADE IN:

THE WAY WE WAR – Part 3 of 3

https://robertpatrickpersonal.wordpress.com/2009/07/13/screenplay-the-way-we-war-by-robert-patrick-part-2-of-3/

screenplay THE WAY WE WAR by Robert Patrick Part 1 of 3

                          THE WAY WE WAR

an original screenplay

by

Robert Patrick

 for Brian Perko

c 1994

Robert Patrick

#211

1837 N. Alexandria Ave.

L.A. CA 90027

 (323) 360-1469

Rbrtptrck@aol.com

THE WAY WE WAR

FADE IN:

EXT. ESTABLISHING – THAINIA – DAY

Outskirts of a large Asian city, mostly bombed to rubble. Here and there a few LARGE BUILDINGS (Embassies) remain. They have on their roofs RIFLE NESTS and FLAGS OF VARIOUS NATIONS. [NOTE: Not American.] One middle-distance building has no rifle-nest and no flag. [NOTE: It will turn out to be the abandoned American Embassy.]

EXT. STREETS IN THAINIA – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Rubble, rubble, rubble lines both sides of narrow, pitted streets. COOLIES, CARTS, and MILITARY TRUCKS (bearing many different flags) rumble through the rubble.

EXT. INTERSECTION IN THAINIA – DAY – CONTINUOUS

A liveried Thainian CHAUFFEUR inches a limousine along a street. A NATIVE guides a sledge full of REFUGEES, pulled by an ox, along the cross-street into the intersection. Limo slows and HONKS. Refugees, Guide, and ox stop, blocking road. Limo halts. Limo honks. The ancient world and the modern world gridlock among ruins.

SUPERIMPOSE CAPTIONS:

First: “THAINIA…CAPITOL OF THAIN….TODAY…”

Then: “….AND YESTERDAY…”

Then: “…AND PROBABLY TOMORROW.”

Then: “GET IT?” CUT TO:

EXT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY ROOFTOP – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Sandbags. Russian flag. Armed RUSSIAN SOLDIERS read a sex magazine. On its cover is Melanie Marlowe, the world’s most beautiful woman. One Soldier folds out the magazine’s center-fold and mutters approval in Russian. Another Soldier fires a few SHOTS in the air to express his excitement.

CUT TO:

EXT. FRENCH EMBASSY ROOFTOP – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Fortified. French flag. FRENCH SOLDIERS ogle French edition of magazine. O.S. GUNFIRE. A bullet hits flagpole with a PING! French Soldier looks up, annoyed, returns to magazine. Another O.S. GUNSHOT makes a sandbag leak. A French Soldier raises his rifle, but not his eyes from the magazine. He fires idly.

CUT TO:

RUSSIAN EMBASSY ROOFTOP

Russians laugh at O.S. GUNFIRE, fire volleys, playfully.

CUT TO:

FRENCH EMBASSY ROOFTOP

French Soldiers playfully fire volleys back.

CUT TO:

EXT. GERMAN EMBASSY ROOFTOP – DAY – CONTINUOUS

GERMAN SOLDIERS join in the gunfire with merry exclamations.

 CUT TO:

EXT. CHINESE EMBASSY ROOFTOP – DAY – CONTINUOUS

O.S. GUNFIRE. The Melanie Marlowe fold-out flies from a pole like a flag. She’s gorgeous. A bullet pierces it. CHINESE SOLDIERS react angrily and start firing.

CUT TO:

EXT. MEXICAN EMBASSY ROOFTOP – DAY – CONTINUOUS

MEXICAN SOLDIERS fire happily. Melanie fold-out waves above them.

CUT TO:

EXT. ARAB EMBASSY ROOFTOP – DAY – CONTINUOUS

ARAB SOLDIERS join in the fun, fire happily. One wraps Melanie magazine around barrel of rifle for luck and fires.

CUT TO:

EXT. U.N. MISSION ROOFTOP – DAY – CONTINUOUS

U.N. SOLDIERS sit politely, not firing. One writes a letter. Another ogles Melanie magazine. O.S. GUNFIRE continues.

A U.N. soldier moves as if to fire. Another cautions him.

A U.N. SOLDIER

Hey, no, we’re here to keep the peace.

CUT TO:

PANORAMIC SHOT FAVORING EMBASSY ROOFTOPS

GUNSHOTS continue. Soldiers whoop and holler.

CUT TO:

THE INTERSECTION

The stalled limo still HONKS; the Sledge Driver prods the ox.

CLOSE ON REFUGEES ON SLEDGE

GRANDMA, teaching a game to CHILDREN, barely looks up at GUNFIRE.

CLOSE ON LIMO

The passenger window rolls down. A top-hatted AMBASSADOR looks out, annoyed, shakes his head. The window goes up.

A stray bullet blows Melanie magazine out of a Soldier’s hands.

U.N. SOLDIER

Okay! E-fuckin’-nough!

He grabs his gun and stands up, ready to fire.

U.N. SOLDIER (cont.)

Let’s play soldier. Here, scum-rag,

Keep a piece of ME!

ROCK AND ROLL MUSIC O.S.

ANOTHER U.N. SOLDIER

Hey, don’t bother. Here’s Tony!

U.N. Soldiers drop everything and lean over sandbags to wave.

U.N. SOLDIERS

Hey, Tony! Tony! Up here!

CUT TO:

INT./EXT. TONY’S JEEP – DAY – CONTINUOUS

CLOSE ON

The back of a moving, open jeep. ROCK ‘N’ ROLL MUSIC blares. Bundles of the Melanie magazines. Boxes of nylons. Cases of brandy. Boxes of candy bars. Other luxury items.

ANGLE ON JEEP’S DRIVER

TONY SUNDAY, 30, a handsome Eurasian in Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses. Tony doesn’t give a shit — That’s how you stay alive in Thainia, buddy. He slaps wheel in time to MUSIC like Tom Cruise. The jeep is painted with psychedelic designs.

Tony hears O.S. GREETINGS FROM SOLDIERS, looks up, waves.

TONY’S POV/U.N. SOLDIERS

U.N. Soldiers laugh with delight. Everybody loves Tony.

TONY

TONY

Don’t jump! These streets are

bad enough!

TONY’S POV/ARAB SOLDIERS

stop shooting, yell at Tony.

ARAB SOLDIER

Yay, Tony-boy, we need new

magazines!

TONY

TONY

Wash the old ones. I’m busy!

QUICK SHOTS OF ALL EMBASSY ROOFTOPS

Soldiers of all nations, wave, make catcalls, give finger to Tony.

TONY

gives the bird right back, and then is distracted by —

TONY’S POV/INTERSECTION

— the roadblock formed by the limo and sledge.

TONY

Honks HORN.

TONY

Hey, let a businessman through!

ANGLE ON LIMO AND SLEDGE

Everybody looks up, waves at oncoming Tony.

LIMO WINDOW

AMBASSADOR

Tony, do you have my brandy?

LIMO DRIVER’S SEAT

DRIVER

You owe me a girl.

SLEDGE

GRANDMA

You got my cigarettes?

KIDS

Tony! Tony! Candy! Candy!

JEEP

slows to a halt.

TONY

Aw, shit.

Tony reaches in box beside him, flings candy to kids.

WIDER ON INTERSECTION

Kids laugh, grab at candy. Tony backs up, drives around limo and sledge, over rubble.

FOLLOW JEEP

Tony gets around gridlock, drops back down to road, turns onto —

EXT. STREET TO OLD AMERICAN EMBASSY – DAY – CONTINUOUS

— a very long, straight street which ends at the Old American Embassy, a large building too far away to see in detail. O.S. HONKING behind Tony. Tony looks in rear-view mirror.

TONY’S POV/REAR-VIEW MIRROR

In mirror, big, beat-up military truck HONKS.

CAB OF TRUCK

A TERRORIST (HAMAN) with Rebel sweat-band and face-paint HONKS and yells:

HAMAN

Hey, Tony, make way!

WIDER ON JEEP AND TRUCK

Truck tailgates Tony. The road’s too narrow for truck to pass Tony. Tony waves some pantyhose boxes.

TONY

Yo, Haman! I got those panty-hose

for your girlfriend!

HAMAN

Give ’em to your whores! Make way!

I got a time-bomb in here!

TONY

Oh, well, in that case!

Tony veers and parks on rubble to let the truck pass. Haman shouts at Tony as they ride side-by-side.

HAMAN

Get your ass clear, Tony. We

Got nothin’ against you.

TONY

Who in hell is “we?”

Haman sticks his bizarrely-painted face out the window and leers.

TONY

Oh, shit! You went Rebel!

Where in Hell are you headed?

HAMAN

I in Hell am headed for the

American Embassy!

Haman points straight ahead, passes Tony.

TONY’S POV/OLD AMERICAN EMBASSY

Some distance down the rubble-lined street, heavy fencing obscures a large building with NO FLAG.

JEEP

TONY

(alert, upset)

Hey, no!

TONY’S POV/STREET TO OLD AMERICAN EMBASSY

The truck heads for the building.

JEEP

TONY

Hey, no, Haman, don’t!

TONY’S POV/TRUCK FROM REAR

Haman gives Tony the finger.

JEEP

Tony guns his motor and speeds after truck.

WIDER ALONG STREET TO OLD AMERICAN EMBASSY

Tony races, catches up with truck, yells at Haman.

TONY

Hey, no, Haman, don’t do

this!

HAMAN

Go peddle your porn, Tony.

What’re you, takin’ sides all

of a sudden?

TONY

No way! But they moved the

American embassy!

Tony looks ahead, lifts up his sunglasses.

TONY’S POV/MOVING – DOWN STREET TO OLD AMERICAN EMBASSY

The gates of the building, coming nearer, fast.

THE JEEP

Tony screeches to a halt well-short of Embassy, stands in jeep.

THE TRUCK

HAMAN

Say what?

EXT. THE OLD AMERICAN EMBASSY – GATES – DAY (CONTINUOUS)

Truck barges through gates, which collapse like cardboard.

THE JEEP

Tony registers alarm.

EXT. THE OLD AMERICAN EMBASSY – INSIDE GATES -DAY – CONTINUOUS

Truck barges through embassy doors. The embassy collapses around truck like a house of cards, leaving truck trapped in rubble.

CLOSE ON HAMAN

HAMAN

Oh, shit!

BACK TO THE JEEP

Tony shifts gears like crazy and backs away at full speed, looking over his shoulder btu glancing back at –

TONY’S POV/MOVING – THE OLD AMERICAN EMBASSY

Haman sits in truck amidst rubble. Truck explodes with huge BANG! Rubble, truck-parts, and Haman-parts, fill the air.

CUT TO:

INTERSECTION – SLEDGE AND LIMO

Ambassador listens, bored, as Chauffeur argues with Coolie. At O.S. SOUND OF EXPLOSION, they barely glance up, continue arguing.

GRANNY AND KIDS

Granny distributes candy to Kids, glances up at O.S. EXPLOSION. Kids don’t look up at all.

CUT TO:

WIDE SHOT — TWO EMBASSY ROOFTOPS

Explosion debris flies past. Some Soldiers WHOOP AND CHEER.

CUT TO:

JEEP

Tony drives on toward intersection. In b.g., smoking rubble of Old American Embassy. Tony cuts over rubble to avoid limo and sledge. He takes another route, pulls sunglasses over his eyes.

TONY

Fuck. The way we war.

CUT TO:

EXT. THAINIA – AERIAL SHOT – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Tony drives away. PULL BACK to include intersection and smoking rubble of embassy, then all of sprawling Thainia. CAMERA MOVES across Thainia, past a building flying the American flag, to a building flying a flag with comedy and tragedy masks, and STOPS on a close-up of that flag which fills the screen.

TITLE SEQUENCE

ROCK AND ROLL CONTINUES as TITLES appear over comedy and tragedy flag. After titles, CAMERA PANS DOWN to —

EXT. SPECIAL SERVICES BUILDING – ESTABLISHING – DAY – CONTINUOUS

CAMERA PANS DOWN flagpole to REVEAL: U.S. SOLDIERS on rooftop rifle-nest, reading Melanie magazine (one rolls magazine around rifle and mimes masturbation), then big trees (nobody’s bombed here yet) and an undamaged Quonset hut surrounded by the usual barbed wire. Sign over the gate reads “SPECIAL SERVICES,” with comedy and tragedy masks. Crowded inside fencing, a FLEET of M.P. cars, limos, and tanks. END PAN on gate, wide open. At gate, a GUARD-BOOTH. A cheerful GUARD (BUBBA) plays a pocket video-game, blows gum-bubbles. O.S. SOUND of HONKING. Bubba looks up and smiles as —

BUBBA’S POV/TONY IN JEEP

— Tony in jeep arrives at gate. Tony slows down, doesn’t stop.

ANGLE ON GATE – BUBBA AND TONY

BUBBA

Hey, Tony, where in Hell ya been?

TONY

In Hell, Bubba, my boy. Here’s your

bubble-gum.

Tony tosses box of gum to Bubba. Bubba tosses Tony money.

BUBBA

Staff of life.

ANGLE INSIDE FENCE

Tony pulls in, parks beside fleet. ROCK AND ROLL MUSIC STOPS.

SOLDIERS

Hey, Tony! Tony!

Hey, Tone! What blew up?

 TONY

(shrugs)

One more misguided rebel.

SOLDIERS

Hey, Tone. Got any girls?

Got any pot?

A SOLDIER

Got any Chinese-African-Norwegian

redheads with one leg?

Tony gets out of jeep carrying pantyhose box.

TONY

Damn! Just ate my last one.

Soldiers LAUGH. A soldier displays Melanie Marlowe fold-out.

SOLDIER

Hey, Tony, you like that?

 TONY

Best of the west.

Tony slides his sunglasses atop his head, registers the impressive fleet of vehicles.

TONY

What’s all the motor power for?

SOLDIER

Brass wants you to stuff ’em full

of women!

Soldiers GUFFAW. Another Soldier waves the Melanie foldout.

SOLDIERS

Got any girls like that, Tony?

How much for her, Tone? Can you

get us some stuff like Melanie

Marlowe, Tony?

TONY CROSSING PARKING AREA

Soldier’s VOICES continue OS. Tony ignores them. He runs his hand admiringly along the limousine, walks on to —

FACADE SPECIAL SERVICES BUILDING

Tony mounts steps up to door. On the wall to one side is a large peace-symbol, labeled “PEACE.” On the other side, an upside-down Peace-symbol labeled, “PUSS.” Tony enters –

CUT TO:

INT. SPECIAL SERVICES — HALLWAY — DAY – CONTINUOUS

A hand-made, glittered poster on a wall reads, “WE BRING STARS TO WARS.” PULL BACK to REVEAL A corridor decorated with film posters, lined with desks manned by MALE SECRETARIES, very busy. Tony enters, saunters down corridor.

TONY

(in passing)

Good morning, girls.

SECRETARIES

(in unison)

Fuck you, Tony.

Tony takes this good-naturedly, tosses small box at a SECRETARY.

TONY

Have some panty-hose.

Box flies back at Tony. He dodges. FOLLOW HIM to —

DOOR TO REYNOLDS’ OFFICE

Sign on door: “MAJOR REYNOLDS.” “Reynolds” has been marked out and “OBSTACLE” substituted. Tony smiles and enters —

INT. REYNOLDS’ OFFICE – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Large, messy. Movie posters, file-cabinets. REYNOLDS, 30’s, trim, in neat uniform, sits at desk piled with files and bearing several phones. He’s on phone as Tony enters. Reynolds waves for Tony to sit. Tony sits.

REYNOLDS

(on phone)

Yeah, Jesus, she arrives today. I

need this. The alleged “rebels” are

shelling anything that moves, and I

get a movie-star laid on me. Someone

tried to kidnap Roseanne, what would

they do to a sex-kitten?…What do you

mean, who’d kidnap Roseanne? This is

Thainia [Ty-een-ya]. Could be the rebels, could be the peace-keepers, could be

someone hungry…Sure, I’ll “consider it

a challenge.” So who do you like for the Oscars?…You’re not serious; he didn’t

even take his shirt off. What would he

get an Oscar for, restraint?

DURING THIS SPEECH, Reynolds offers Tony a cigarette. Tony takes Bic lighter from pocket, presses a button, switch-blade pops out. Reynolds tosses cigarette away. Tony retracts blade and puts Bic in shirt-pocket, listens to Reynolds with growing irritation, then takes cellular phone from pocket and punches in a number, unnoticed by Reynolds. One of Reynolds’ PHONES RINGS.

REYNOLDS (Cont’d)

Hold on, that’s the hot-line. I’m ex-

pecting cognac from a busboy at the

French Embassy.

(answers second phone)

Allo. Marcel?

TONY

(into phone)

No, it’s me. I think I can just

barge in here anytime.

REYNOLDS

(into first phone)

I’ll get back to you. It’s the

People’s Pimp.

(hangs up both phones)

Make yourself at home.

The tone is fast, friendly. These two guys are basically in the same business, and recognize and enjoy each other.

TONY

(pocketing phone)

“Make Yourself At Home.” Is that a

masturbation manual?

Reynolds grabs a magazine.

REYNOLDS

All new, all fast, all funny.

How would you like to pick up

a movie star?

TONY

With rubber gloves. Who, where,

when, and how much?

Reynolds unfolds fold-out. Tony takes magazine, examines photos.

REYNOLDS

Melanie Marlowe. The poster girl

for true tits. At Ross Perot Mem-

orial Heliport. In an hour. For a

case of excellent cognac?

TONY

Please. I sell it to Marcel. What

do you say to American money?

REYNOLDS

“Goodbye” when you come in the door.

I could steal five hundred bucks from

the fund for starving orphans. Could

you live with that?

Reynolds takes cash-box from drawer, opens it. Reynolds extends money-clipped wad of money. Tony considers it.

TONY

Sure, I been a starving orphan.

Do I get to drive that limo?

REYNOLDS

In your wet-dreams. The limousine,

with an intelligent driver and an

armed cadre, will be dispatched to

transport Ms. Bosom to the American

Embassy for a tea in her honor.

TONY

Get to the punch-line. My meter’s

running.

Reynolds presses an intercom button, speaks into intercom..

REYNOLDS

Send in the decoy.

(to Tony)

Nothing female is safe in Thainia,

and nothing famous. Slenderella

here —

SOUND of WOLF-WHISTLES O.S.. SOUND of DOOR OPENING behind Tony.

Tony turns. Soldier (CARSTAIRS) enters, disguised convincingly as Melanie, in an attractive cocktail dress, with bag.

REYNOLDS (Cont’d)

— will divert and decoy the troops

of all nations with a Melanie Marlowe

motorcade while you haul the genuine

baggage to the embassy in your incon-

spicuous pimp-mobile.

Tony stands, circles Carstairs. Carstairs strikes Melanie poses.

TONY

And what if they kidnap the Prom

Queen here?

Carstairs draws a big gun from his bag.

CARSTAIRS

I’d like to see them try.

TONY

I bet you would.

(to Reynolds)

What is the purpose of Ms. Marsh-

mallow’s visit to our Tales From

The Crypt theme-park?

REYNOLDS

She’s giving a lecture on brain

surgery. Fool. She’s to entertain

the troops.

TONY

Where do I enlist?

REYNOLDS

You’re untrainable. You’re to look

after her.

TONY

A pleasure. Especially when she’s

walking away.

Tony pinches Carstairs’ ass. Carstairs casually throws Tony to the floor with a martial-arts move. Tony LAUGHS and gets up.

REYNOLDS

(utterly nonplused by the violence)

You are to see that she doesn’t walk away.

TONY

Why me?

REYNOLDS

I trust you. You don’t believe in

anything.

TONY

I believe you said five hundred dollars.

Make that a thousand — a day.

Reynolds gets money, adds it to clip. Tony takes the clip.

REYNOLDS

You’d sell your grandmother.

Tony puts clip into cigarette pack, puts pack in his shirt-pocket, shrugs.

TONY

She sold me first.

REYNOLDS

That’s show business.

(to Carstairs)

Get out of here, Carstairs. You excite

me in that creation.

Reynolds holds door for Carstairs.

CARSTAIRS

You say that when I’m in uniform.

REYNOLDS

Damn. Now Tony knows.

Carstairs stows gun and exits. SOUND of O. S. WHISTLES.

REYNOLDS

(checks his watch)

Get Marlowe to the Embassy. Then get

back here and I’ll fit you with a tux.

Tony walks to door.

TONY

If I have to mix with my betters, my

price goes up.

REYNOLDS

If you give me any trouble, I’ll tell

them you’re a spy.

TONY

I’ll tell Marcel to put laxatives in

your cognac.

REYNOLDS

I’ll hide illegal aliens in your jeep.

TONY

I could use the income. For my

getaway fund.

REYNOLDS

Why would anyone want to leave Thainia?

TONY

To go to Hollywood and meet movie stars.

REYNOLDS

Peace in our time.

TONY

Tea in your honor.

Tony leaves room.

INT. THE CORRIDOR – DAY – CONTINUOUS

As Tony enters corridor, the Secretaries fling a bombardment of crumpled paper and office supplies at him. FOLLOW laughing TONY through this apparently usual gauntlet to the building door –

EXT. THE SPECIAL SERVICES BUILDING – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Tony emerges, laughing. He stops to watch SOLDIERS, BRASS, and BAND (with instruments) enter vehicles. Carstairs enters limo, pops up out of open sun-roof, waves coyly at Tony, sinks out of view.

TONY

Tony lowers his sunglasses, hops into jeep, revs up, and pulls out as the vehicles begin to move. Vehicles form a motorcade with limo in center.

CUT TO:

EXT. A COUNTRY ROAD – DAY – A LITTLE LATER

WIDE SHOT on sky, where vultures circle. PAN DOWN TO dismal countryside. PEASANTS work fields. REFUGEES trudge along one direction. A SOLDIER whose uniform is too mud-spattered to discern his nationality leads a LINE OF CHAINED PRISONERS the opposite way.

CLOSER ON ROAD

SOUND of honking O.S. Refugees and Prisoners barely make way for Motorcade as its impressive vehicles zoom past and go out of frame. O.S. ROCK MUSIC. After motorcade, Tony in jeep bounces through. Peasants, Refugees, Soldier, and Prisoners wave at Tony. Tony waves back, goes out of frame, ROCK MUSIC FADES O.S., and life goes on.

CUT TO:

EXT. HELIPORT – DAY – A LITTLE LATER

WIDE SHOT. A crummy but efficient heliport. Control tower and sheds. Sign reads “ROSS PEROT MEMORIAL HELIPAD. IT JUST DON’T MAKE SENSE!” GUARDS and CREW welcome Motorcade and form it up in a semi-circle around helipad. Tony’s jeep putters past and out of frame behind a shed, playing ROCK MUSIC.

 

EXT. HELIPORT – BEHIND A SHED – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Tony pulls jeep into position behind shed, its right-hand passenger-door toward helipad, hops out. Past the shed WE SEE a good view of the helipad. LANDING CREW scuttles about efficiently in b.g. Tony pulls up top of jeep, rolls up windows, smears them with dirt. Tony finishes preparations, looks around.

TONY’S POV/LANDING CREW MEMBERS

TWO LANDING CREW MEMBERS in overalls, handling big baggage-rack (an upright tall box on wheels), give Tony a conspiratorial high-sign.

TONY

Tony returns high-sign unenergetically, settles down in jeep with driver’s-side door open, turns on a DIFFERENT ROCK SONG. He takes a magazine from glove-compartment, settles back to read.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. BEHIND THE SHED – (LATER THAT) DAY

INT./EXT. JEEP

A NEW ROCK SONG plays. CLOSE ON pictures of Hollywood in a magazine. They make it look exotic, beautiful. Palms, the “HOLLYWOOD” sign, cars, starlets. Tony’s hand turns a page.

ANOTHER ANGLE

Tony sits in jeep, sunglasses up, bored, leafs through California magazine. Suddenly SOUNDS OF CHOPPER O.S. Tony turns off ROCK SONG, shoves open front passenger door, and looks out at:

TONY’S POV/THE HELIPAD

Landing Crew galvanized into action.

ANGLE PAST CONTROL TOWER

A big helicopter appears overhead.

ANGLE ON JEEP

Tony comes out of jeep. FOLLOW TONY to a better viewing-site. Baggage-Rack Crew stands by. One Baggage-Rack Crewman gives Tony the high-sign again. Tony flips him the finger and observes:

TONY’S POV/THE HELIPAD

Past a corner of the shed, WE SEE the helipad and the semi-circle of vehicles, the limo down front. No sign of Carstairs. Brass, Officials, and Guards stand ready. O.S. CHOPPER grows louder.

The helicopter descends, making clouds of dust. Landing Crew does its thing. Chopper lands. It’s a biggie. Landing Crew places stairs for passengers to descend. CHOPPER NOISE ends.

CLOSE ON TONY

More excited than he’d like to admit.

TONY’S POV/THE HELIPAD

The door of the chopper opens and MELANIE MARLOWE appears for a brief moment. At this distance and through the dust, we can’t see much but that she’s dressed very much like Carstairs. BAND MUSIC blares. An Officer hands Melanie a bouquet of roses. She takes a step or two down and disappears among her welcomers.

ANGLE BEHIND SHED

Baggage-Rack Crew shoves Tony out of the way and rolls baggage-rack into the crowd. Tony hops in jeep, revs the motor, lowers his sunglasses.

NEW ANGLE ON HELIPAD

We’re behind the crowd. WE CAN SEE the baggage-rack cutting through the crowd on its way back to the shed. Suddenly Carstairs emerges gloriously through the hatch in the roof of the limousine, clutching the bouquet of roses and waving girlishly in time to BAND MUSIC.

BACK BEHIND SHED

Tony revs his motor. He remembers to throw open back right-hand passenger door. [NOTE: front passenger door is already open.]

INT./EXT. JEEP – DAY – CONTINUOUS

TONY’S POV

WE SEE Crew shove baggage-rack to jeep’s passenger door. One Crewman flings luggage in back seat while other flings Melanie out of baggage-rack into front seat, on her knees. She’s gorgeous, disheveled. She gapes at Tony.

MELANIE’S POV/TONY

–in sunglasses, gaping right back. Melanie’s beautiful face reflects in Tony’s glasses. Tony recovers himself, smiles.

TONY

Welcome to Thain.

MELANIE AND TONY

Crewmen slam doors. Melanie reacts.

MELANIE

Who in Hell are you?

TONY

I in Hell am your guide.

Melanie would respond, but Crewman’s face appears at dirty window. Crewman taps on window.

CREWMAN

Take ‘er away, Tone!

Tony grimaces at the nickname. He backs up and turns around, flinging Melanie back in her seat.

MELANIE

Tone?

TONY

Tony Sunday. Transliteration of my

orphanage name, “Thaini San Dei.”

Means, “He who has no name.”

My friends call me, “Bastard.”

THE HELIPORT

WIDE:

Tony’s jeep pulls past the welcoming throng and Carstairs.

CLOSE ON CARSTAIRS

Carstairs, waving, register’s the jeep’s appearance.

CARSTAIRS

(to chauffeur below)

Okay, Barney, let’s get zees

show on ze road.

CARSTAIRS’ POV/BARNEY

BARNEY, chauffeur, tips an amused salute up at

CARSTAIRS

Carstairs blows a kiss at the jeep.

CLOSE ON WINDOW OF JEEP

Melanie’s face, blurrily seen through the dirty glass as she sees Carstairs. Carstairs reflects in window. Moving along road from heliport, jeep speeds up fast. Melanie turns away from the window.

MELANIE

Who in Hell is THAT?

TONY

That in Hell is a brave soldier

covering your ass. Weren’t

you briefed?

MELANIE

(angrily)

I wouldn’t have agreed to that.

I thought I was going to

be kidnapped by rebels.

TONY

Not on our first date.

MELANIE

(suddenly “silly”)

So! Where are big, handsome you

taking li’l ol’ me?

TONY

To the American Embassy. They’re

holding a tea in your honor.

MELANIE

So that’s where my honor went.

(realization)

Shit! The Embassy! Where’s my gold lame?

Melanie flings herself over the seat, rummages through luggage. Tony gets a fantastic view of Melanie’s famous ass.

TONY

Fasten your safety-belt.

Melanie comes back, clutching a gown.

MELANIE

Sugar, my gold lame IS my safety-belt.

Slow down. They can’t start without me.

Melanie starts undressing, unembarrassed and professional. Tony reacts by losing control of the jeep momentarily.

CUT TO:

EXT. COUNTRY ROAD – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Jeep veers crazily, rights itself, goes out of frame. A CROWD begins to appear along both sides of road, of Peasants, Refugees, Soldiers, and OTHERS TO BE DESCRIBED. Ignoring the jeep, they look the opposite way, waiting for the motorcade.

 

CUT TO:

EXT. THE HELIPORT – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Wide shot. The Motorcade pulls out slowly. Carstairs clutches roses with one hand, waves with the other. BAND PLAYS.

CUT TO:

EXT. ROAD TO THAINIA – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Tony’s jeep going much faster than motorcade barrels along road lined by Crowd.

INT./EXT. THE JEEP – DAY – CONTINUOUS

[NOTE: Until arrival at Embassy, Melanie continues changing.]

MELANIE

Can you see through that window?

TONY

I know every bump and hollow.

Tony, distracted, looks at her “bumps and hollows” as Melanie strips. Jeep hits a bump or hollow, jarring them both.

TONY

That’s one right there.

MELANIE

So you’re a native?

TONY

I’m the result of ten centuries

of military rape. I’m a native of

every country that ever fucked Thain.

MELANIE

Registers this seriously. Quickly looks out window.

MELANIE’S POV/ROADSIDE

The Crowd along the roadside, looking for the motorcade.

IN THE JEEP

MELANIE

You don’t look much like the characters

lining the road. Who are they?

TONY

Don’t you watch educational television?

MELANIE

Empty-headed actress. Fill ‘er up.

TONY

Okay.

(enjoying himself)

Thain was once inhabited by

tiny little people called Flahvans —

BEGIN INTERCUT AMONG

(A) Tony and Melanie speeding in the jeep,

(B) The Motorcade, featuring Carstairs, tooling along,

(C) Appropriate CROWD MEMBERS along the roadside, and

(D) Rebels skulking behind CROWD.

 

INTERCUT WITH

EXT. THE ROADSIDE – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Appropriate tiny peasants (FLAHVANS) waving at Motorcade.

INTERCUT WITH

IN THE JEEP

TONY (Cont’d)

— who were conquered by larger

people called “Thainese” —

INTERCUT WITH

THE ROADSIDE

Larger THAINESE, looking more prosperous, waving at Motorcade.

INTERCUT WITH

THE MOTORCADE

Carstairs waves benevolently, smells roses. He’s enjoying this.

INTERCUT WITH

IN THE JEEP

Melanie, dressing, is intensely interested in Tony’s history.

TONY (cont’d)

— who did well as pirates and smugglers until they heard that some nice people to their north, the Celestos —

INTERCUT WITH

THE ROADSIDE

CELESTOS, even larger and more prosperous, wave at Motorcade.

INTERCUT WITH

IN THE JEEP

Melanie listens to Tony intently while dressing and painting. Tony is enjoying himself very much.

TONY (Cont’d)

— had been thrown out of their homes

by some bullies called the Namanians.

The Thainese thought it was awful not

to have a home, so they invited the

Celestos in to learn piracy and smuggling.

MELANIE

Decent of them.

TONY

But the Celestos used Thain as a base to

mount attacks against the Namanians.

MELANIE

So the Namanians invaded Thain.

INTERCUT WITH

THE ROADSIDE

Big, burly NAMANIANS shove others aside to wave at the Motorcade.

INTERCUT WITH

IN THE JEEP

TONY

Bingo. Moral: Never do anything

for anybody.

MELANIE

Tell me. I did one socially-conscious

movie and my pin-ups fell off the walls.

TONY

They’re back up since you posed nude.

MELANIE

While I still can. Tell more.

TONY

While I still can. So, okay, so the

Namanians made slaves of everybody

and found tungsten in them there hills,

so the tungsten-hungry Chinese decided to

come restore liberty —

INTERCUT WITH

THE ROADSIDE

CHINESE with SERVANTS observe the Motorcade.

INTERCUT WITH

THE MOTORCADE/CARSTAIRS

Carstairs is getting a little fed-up with this waving bit.

INTERCUT WITH

IN THE JEEP

TONY

— and the French decided to restore

democracy —

INTERCUT WITH

THE CROWD

FRENCH and other EUROPEANS appear, waving at the motorcade.

TONY (VO)

— then most of Europe remembered

ancestral claims in the area.

Then, of course, America took turns

supporting each of the colonial powers.

AMERICAN BUSINESSMEN, DIPLOMATS, and SOLDIERS appear in the Crowd.

INTERCUT WITH

IN THE JEEP

MELANIE

It makes Bosnia-Herzegovina

sound like a panty-raid. So who’s

fighting who?

TONY

Everybody is fighting everybody.

But they’re also all in league with each other. Everyone who dies in Thain dies

from friendly fire.

MELANIE

So it’s settled into a congenitally

violent balance of power like Lebanon.

Or the Mid-east. Or Central America.

South America. Belfast. Everywhere.

Tony gapes. Melanie realizes her slip, becomes “empty-headed.”

MELANIE (Cont’d)

I do a lot of location shooting.

TONY

Yeah. Well, so power was balanced.

Until the rebels appeared.

 

ADD TO INTERCUT

EXT. BEHIND THE CROWD – DAY – CONTINUOUS

A REBEL LEADER — really ugly, bristling with weapons –, with the head-dress and face-paint Haman wore, runs skulking low behind the Crowd. ANOTHER REBEL appears out of bushes and joins him. [NOTE: Rebels are of all races.]

INTERCUT WITH

MELANIE

(carefully)

You don’t like the rebels?

TONY

(not noticing her care)

Why wouldn’t I? They buy dope and

cognac like everybody else.

MELANIE

Who do you think they are?

TONY

Dumb fucks from all over.

Somebody stirred ’em up.

Nobody knows who.

INTERCUT WITH

BEHIND THE CROWD/REBELS

The REBELS continue running along behind the Crowd. MORE join the LEADER, all armed, in identifying head-dress and face-paint.

INTERCUT WITH

IN THE JEEP

TONY (Cont’d)

Hell, even some half-breed bastards

like me have joined up.

MELANIE

(registers this strongly)

But you wouldn’t?

TONY

Who do you think you’re talking to?

MELANIE

I’d like to know.

TONY

I’m everybody’s buddy.

MELANIE

You don’t take sides?

TONY

I do my job.

MELANIE

Which you see as..?

TONY

Right now, protecting you from

military rape.

CUT TO:

EXT. THE ROAD – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Jeep speeds past the Crowd. Crowd cheers oncoming Motorcade.

INTERCUT WITH

THE MOTORCADE/CARSTAIRS

Carstairs waves, registers cramp, and switches roses to other arm so he can use the other hand to wave. He mutters to driver below:

CARSTAIRS

Barney, this is getting old. Let’s

get this show off the road.

CARSTAIRS’ POV/LOOKING DOWN

In the limo, at Carstairs’ feet, driver BARNEY looks up, sees up Carstairs’ dress, looks down with a red face.

INTERCUT WITH

BEHIND THE CROWD/REBELS

There’s more Rebels. They catch up with the limo (seen over the heads of The Crowd). Rebel Leader gives a terrifying WAR-WHOOP and the Rebels break through the Crowd, firing GUNS.

CUT TO:

CARSTAIRS

CARSTAIRS

Autograph hounds! Floorboard

it, Barney!…Barney?

CARSTAIRS’ POV/LOOKING DOWN

At Carstairs’ feet, BARNEY lies dead at the wheel, a bloody mess.

WIDER – LIMO AND ADJACENT VEHICLES

Limo slides to a halt. Car behind it slams into it. Soldiers open fire on Rebels. Rebels storm Motorcade. Crowd flees among GUNSHOTS, SCREAMS, and CRIES. Carstairs stands exposed.

REBEL LEADER

FOLLOW HIM through melee to limo. He hops on trunk.

CARSTAIRS

hears O.S. THUMP of Leader hitting trunk. Turns to see as —

CARSTAIRS’ POV/TRUNK OF LIMO

— Rebel Leader, on trunk, gun in hand, reaches out with free hand.

REBEL LEADER

Come on! Come on! Hurry!

CARSTAIRS

blinks, but recovers quickly. He extends his hand, and —

CARSTAIRS’ POV/TRUNK OF LIMO

— the Rebel Leader winces as Carstairs grips his wrist firmly.

REBEL LEADER’S POV/CARSTAIRS

Carstairs draws gun from among roses, aims at Leader.

CARSTAIRS

Don’t rain on my parade.

REBEL LEADER

–looks astonished.

REBEL LEADER’S POV/CARSTAIRS

Carstairs fires point-blank in Rebel Leader’s face.

REBEL LEADER

Face a bloody mess, Rebel Leader rolls from car to road.

CARSTAIRS

CARSTAIRS

I said, “No autographs.”

Carstairs blows in barrel like a cowboy, turns to shoot more.

END INTERCUT

INT./EXT. THE JEEP – DAY – CONTINUOUS

MELANIE

(of O.S. gunfire)

What’s that?

TONY

Location shooting?

MELANIE

Quit joking!

TONY

Must be senseless slaughter then!

Melanie frantically opens window.

MELANIE

Innocent people may be killed!

Tony frantically closes her window while steering with one hand.

TONY

Here we call them

“target practice.”

MELANIE

Don’t you care?

TONY

Care in one hand, bleed in the other,

see which gets full first.

MELANIE

This is your country!

TONY

Don’t call it that.

MELANIE

What should I call it?

TONY

(controlling anger)

The Flahvans call it “Flahvania.”

The Thainese call it “Thain.”

The English call it “Tyne.’

The Americans call it “Tiny.”

MELANIE

What do YOU call it?

Tony shrieks to a jarring halt, angrily flings top of jeep back.

EXT. OUTSKIRTS OF THAINIA – DAY – CONTINUOUS

The jeep sits amidst rubble. It’s shocking. Melanie gasps.

TONY

I call it “gravel.”

Tony hops out and indicates rubble like a tourist guide. CAMERA PANS AROUND THE JEEP, revealing the devastation to Melanie.

ANGLE ON JEEP

From front. Melanie surveys the horror.

TONY

Welcome to my world?

MELANIE

This can’t go on!

TONY

That’s why we have Peacekeepers.

As Tony hops back into jeep, he picks up stone, hands it to her.

TONY (Cont’d)

Want a piece to keep?

Melanie angrily throws the stone away. Tony with cold efficiency flings the jeep top back up, and drives on.

CUT TO:

INT./EXT. THE JEEP – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Tony drives on, coldly angry. Melanie professionally repairs her appearance, but, though shaken, refuses to end the discussion.

MELANIE

Unforgivable things have been

done to your country.

TONY

To my country, by my country, for

my country, against my country…

Tony rubs futilely at the dirty glass, shoves his sunglasses up.

MELANIE

Don’t you even wonder why?

TONY

I know why. The East wants slaves,

the West wants tungsten, the locals

want blood, and the C.I.A. wants the

U.N. to keep the franchise open so it

can sell weapons to everybody.

MELANIE

Cynicism is not enough. You have

to take a side!

TONY

(blinks at her tone)

I don’t take sides. I take bets.

MELANIE

If everyone was on one side, the war

would be over!

TONY

If nobody took any side, there

wouldn’t BE a war.

MELANIE

You don’t believe there IS a just side?

TONY

There’s just suicide! I thought you were supposed to be empty-headed.

MELANIE

Ya pick things up.

TONY

I’ll say I do. What’s happened?

Did the bleach get to your brain?

MELANIE

Sarcasm and sophistication are counter-

effective. Alienated intellectuals like

you definitely prolong the conflict!

Tony screeches the to a halt, turns to face her. WE CAN’T SEE what’s outside. He’s scary. Melanie backs away. Behind her, faces press against jeep window.

TONY

I doubt seriously that the conflict will be appreciably foreshortened by adrenalin- building boob-bunnies trying to jump-start

stalled careers by dropping in to cock-

tease the troops!

Tony reaches forward as if to attack Melanie. She cringes. He just smiles and opens her door. Melanie turns confused to see —

MELANIE’S POV/AMERICAN AMBASSADOR

–beams at Melanie. Behind him, a CROWD.

AMBASSADOR

Welcome to Thainia, Ms. Marlowe.

MELANIE

Turns back to —

TONY

TONY

(evil grin)

It’s show-time!

Whatever Melanie might reply is drowned out by sudden BAND MUSIC.

CUT TO:

EXT. AMERICAN EMBASSY – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Passenger door of jeep. Ambassador helps Melanie out of jeep onto a vivid stretch of red carpet that leads through OFFICIALS, GUARDS, MILITARY, WELL-DRESSED WOMEN, REPORTERS, and PHOTOGRAPHERS. All APPLAUD. BAND PLAYS.

CUT TO:

INT./EXT. JEEP – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Tony, fuming, watches Melanie’s reception.

TONY’S POV/JEEP PASSENGER-SIDE DOOR

WE SEE Melanie’s gold-lame ass framed in the door.

TONY

flips sunglasses down. Melanie’s ass reflects in both lenses.

 

CUT TO:

EXT. EMBASSY – DAY – CONTINUOUS

TIGHT ON MELANIE

Melanie, standing beside jeep, is led forward hand-in-hand by Ambassador. She beams as Ambassador presents dignitaries.

Melanie LEAVES FRAME TO REVEAL Tony leaning out of passenger door to watch the spectacle. Guards open back doors of jeep and take Melanie’s luggage. Tony comes to. He slams passenger door.

MELANIE

Melanie amidst Dignitaries smiles for photographers. MUSIC makes everything inaudible except JEEP DOOR SLAMMING. Flashbulbs pop.

Ambassador leads Melanie forward. Crowd closes behind her, hiding jeep. But Melanie and WE CAN HEAR Tony’s JEEP STARTING.

Melanie is led up steps onto porch of Embassy. She turns to see —

MELANIE’S POV/OVER HEADS OF CROWD

Tony’s jeep starts away down street.

MELANIE

registers sadness, then turns back to see —

MELANIE’S POV/EMBASSY STEPS

— GENERAL CHIANG at top of Embassy Steps. Chiang is a smooth Asian customer, in Thainian uniform with many medals.

MELANIE

Melanie averts her face from Chiang and “tweetily” shakes hands with Dignitaries. With Ambassador, she ascends steps.

AMBASSADOR(O.S.)

..the President of Thain,

General Chiang.

JUMP-CUT BACK AND FORTH BETWEEN

(1) Melanie’s expression as she obviously recognizes Chiang.

(2) Chiang’s expression as he gives a cautioning look.

MELANIE

(faking not-hearing)

I’m so sorry. President who?

(3) Chiang’s approving expression.

END JUMP-CUTS

WIDER REVERSE SHOT – EMBASSY STEPS

Melanie’s back. She moves on with Ambassador into Embassy.

LINGER ON

Chiang observing her entrance. He steps forward into Embassy.

CUT TO:

ANGLE OVER CROWD/STREET

Chiang’s conspiratorially-smiling face LEAVES FRAME to REVEAL Crowd and street. OVER heads of Crowd surging slowly forward into Embassy, WE SEE Tony’s jeep zoom away down the street.

CROSS_FADE TO:

EXT. SPECIAL SERVICES BUILDING – DAY – (A LITTLE) LATER

WIDE ON GATE, YARD, STEPS

Guard-post deserted. Massed Motorcade vehicles, some damaged. Bubba and some Guards, Motorcade Soldiers (some bandaged), and Secretaries sit on vehicles and gossip. Tony pulls in, parks, leaves jeep, walks through yard.

TONY

registers bullet holes and blood on vehicles, listens to

GOSSIPING SOLDIERS

A WOUNDED SOLDIER

Those fuckin’ rebels were fuckin’ all

over us, man! Like fuckin’ great planning!

A SECRETARY

You think somebody tipped them off?

A SOLDIER

Duh!

Bubba breaks big bubble.

A SOLDIER

Hey, Tony!

ALL SOLDIERS

Hi, Tony!

TONY

waves vestigially.

SOLDIERS

return to gossip.

WOUNDED SOLDIER

But you shoulda seen the way they went

for Carstairs, man! Like a fuckin’ magnet!

TONY

registers this, leaves jeep, heads up stairs into building.

SOLDIERS (Cont’d O.S.)

So do you think you actually killed

somebody? Do you think they’ll give

you a medal? Did any of the brass

get hit? Was any media there? Maybe

you’ll get on the news! Wow!

O.S. SOUND of Bubba bursting a bubble.

CUT TO:

INT. SPECIAL SERVICES – CORRIDOR – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Tony enters. Clustered Secretaries gossip.

SECRETARIES (variously)

Shit, this’ll be another black

mark for Special Services security.

Please, this is Thainia. Everybody

knows if anybody has a wet dream.

TONY

Hi, girls.

Secretaries, annoyed, glance at Tony. One turns and punches Tony through a curtained doorway. Secretaries continue gossiping.

A SECRETARY

Carstairs will probably get a

merit badge.

CUT TO:

INT. WARDROBE ROOM – DAY – CONTINUOUS

A cramped large closet with tiers of costumes hung on racks, stacked boxes, bales, etc. Tony falls through curtain onto floor. Carstairs sits on a box with his “Melanie” dress peeled down. He swigs booze from a bottle. Reynolds doctors Carstairs’ cuts and bruises. They barely turn to notice Tony.

REYNOLDS

Hi, Tony.

(to Carstairs)

So what happened then?

CARSTAIRS

So this mean-faced fucker, I mean

we’re talkin’ gap-tooth city, man,

comes crawlin’ right the fuck up the

trunk and fuckin’ sticks out his

fuckin’ hand like he was the fuckin’

welcomin’ committee and fuckin’ says,

“Come on! Come on!” like we fuckin’

had a fuckin’ date, man!

REYNOLDS

You have to be shitting moi.

TONY

(painfully getting up)

Reynolds —

REYNOLDS

Take off your clothes, Tony.

(to Carstairs)

Like he expected you to go with him?

(to Tony)

There’s your tux.

(to Carstairs)

And you did what?

Tony sees tux on hanger, starts peeling, listens in puzzlement.

CARSTAIRS

I did what? I fuckin’ grabbed his arm

like it was my fuckin’ dick, man, and

pulled my fuckin’ rod out of my fuckin’

roses, and fuckin’ blew his fuckin’ face

away right between his fuckin’ teeth is

what I fuckin’ did!

REYNOLDS

“Man.”

CARSTAIRS

Man!

CLOSE IN on Tony, undressing and pondering.

CUT TO:

INT. REYNOLDS’ OFFICE – DAY – LATER

Tony almost dressed, tie not yet tied, sulking. Reynolds helps Tony into jacket.

REYNOLDS

So what’s she fuckin’ like?

Pardon me. So what’s she like?

TONY

First-class cunt.

REYNOLDS

For a living. What’s her essence?

TONY

Stupid movie star.

Tony transfers cigarettes containing money-clip into a tux pocket. Reynolds ties Tony’s bow-tie.

REYNOLDS

Second generation.

TONY

So it’s genetic?

REYNOLDS

So did you get a hand-job?

TONY

I got jerked-off. It’s not

the same thing.

REYNOLDS

So is she as beautiful close-up?

TONY

(trying to convince himself)

If you get close, you can see right

through her. She’s that shallow.

CUT TO:

INT. AMERICAN EMBASSY – BALLROOM – NIGHT – LATER

BIG CLOSE UP — MELANIE

— shallow indeed, giggling like Jayne Mansfield. COCKTAIL MUSIC.

MELANIE

Oh, stop about the war! It’s all

so ugly! Tell me I’m pretty!

WIDER TO REVEAL

Large elegant room. Fancy decor. Melanie, now barely in a gown that hangs from her nipples, holds court among swarm of MEN in uniforms and tuxes, including FRENCH AMBASSADOR with monocle.

FRENCH AMBASSADOR

My dear, you are more beautiful

than twin rainbows over Paris.

MELANIE

Oh, I bet you say that to all

the stars!

ANGLE ACROSS ROOM

Many NEGLECTED WIVES sit around the perimeter of the ballroom, hating Melanie, drinking too much. Melanie’s LAUGHTER O.S.. A WIFE hails a WAITER, gives him an empty glass, takes two full ones. FOLLOW WAITER to Chiang, leaning in a corner, the only man not with Melanie. Chiang refuses drink, watching —

MELANIE AND MEN

Melanie, laughing, becomes aware of Chiang’s scrutiny and quickly turns her attention back to Men. She grabs French Ambassador’s monocle and squints it into place in her own eye.

MELANIE

Any of you liars see any good

movies lately? Or only mine?

FRENCH AMBASSADOR

Oh, indeed, Mademoiselle Marlowe —

MELANIE

Please — “Melanie!”

FRENCH AMBASSADOR

Ah, I would do anything to please Melanie.

MELANIE

Oh? Would you kiss your wife?

Men LAUGH. Melanie covertly looks for Chiang.

MELANIE’S POV/WALL

The wall where Chiang stood. Chiang’s not there.

MELANIE

scans the room for Chiang while perfunctorily teasing the Men.

RUSSIAN AMBASSADOR

I protest I have seen all your films.

MELANIE

(hands monocle back to Ambassador)

That’s something to protest, all right.

RUSSIAN AMBASSADOR

I most enjoyed “Bawdy Blossoms.”

MELANIE’S POV/SCAN ROOM

–including foyer where entering GUESTS undergo an elaborate screening (TO BE DESCRIBED LATER), BAND, bar, etc.

MEN (Cont’d, O.S.)

Oh, no, I prefer “Her Hottest Night.” “Seven Lively Sins.” “Joyce of the Jungle.” The one where the Marines stole all your underwear. Where the cowboys held her hostage. Where the princess pretended to be a stripper. What was the name of that one?

Melanie locates Chiang, discreetly nearer to her than before.

MELANIE

shrugs helplessly in Chiang’s direction, indicating the Men.

CHIANG

calmly looks away.

MELANIE AND MEN

MELANIE

(supplies title)

“She Shifts Her Background.”

Melanie demonstrates “shifting her background.” Men LAUGH. Melanie stares at Men in near-disbelief, then snaps back into her empty-headed act and GIGGLES along.

CUT TO:

INT. THE ENTRANCE FOYER – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

DOORBELL RINGS. A MAJOR-DOMO admits GUESTS. Guests submit invitations, Major-Domo announces them.

MAJOR-DOMO

Your card, sir?….The Ambassador

and Ambassadrix of Iceland.

American Ambassador comes into frame to welcome Guests.

AMERICAN AMBASSADOR

Good evening, your excellencies.

This way to security, please.

FOLLOW American Ambassador as he escorts Guests to

A FOYER CORNER – SEARCHING STATION

where AMERICAN SOLDIERS flank a BUTLER and MAID who finish frisking respectively a Male and Female Guest in exotic finery. A waiting Couple in yet more exotic costume steps forward to be frisked. First Couple strolls off to party. Icelandic Couple wait their turn. Guests are used to this. O.S. DOORBELL RINGS.

MAJOR-DOMO (O.S.)

Your card, sir?…The Ambassador

and Ambassadrix of Uruguay.

AMERICAN AMBASSADOR

(to Icelandic Couple)

Enjoy yourselves.

FOLLOW American Ambassador back to

ENTRANCE FOYER

Where Uruguayan Couple wait. American Ambassador greets them.

AMERICAN AMBASSADOR

Good evening, your excellencies.

This way to security, please.

He ushers Uruguayan Couple away as DOORBELL RINGS. Major-Domo opens door to let in Tony, looking stunning in full evening-dress.

MAJOR-DOMO

Your card, sir? Oh, hi, Tony.

TONY

How’s the wife, Jake?

MAJOR-DOMO

Which one?

(to a NEW COUPLE)

Your card, sir?

FOLLOW TONY past searching-station.

MALE FRISKER

Hi, Tony.

FEMALE FRISKER

(with a familiar wink)

Hey, Tone.

Soldiers at attention and Couple waiting nod to Tony. Couple being frisked, arms in air, look over their shoulders.

MALE FRISKEE

Looking good, Tony.

FEMALE FRISKEE

Tony! You don’t dress like that for me!

Female Frisker registers this and turns her around roughly. Tony gives them a collective grin-and-wave. FOLLOW TONY INTO

THE BALLROOM

Tony looks for, and SEES

MELANIE AND MEN

Melanie is giggling.

TONY

registers displeasure at this. DIGNIFIED MAN approaches Tony.

DIGNIFIED MAN

Tony, where are my Girl Scout uniforms?

TONY

I have to wait till someone orders

Girl Scouts —

MELANIE

sees Tony and stands on tiptoe to yell

MELANIE

Tony! Here! I’m in here!

TONY AND DIGNIFIED MAN

TONY

There’s one now. See ya.

DIGNIFIED MAN

(man-to-man)

Take your time.

Tony moves through Guests toward

MELANIE AMONG MEN

Melanie’s relieved and thrilled to see Tony. Men are annoyed.

MELANIE

Oooooh! Here comes my bodyguard!

CHIANG

Registers this.

MELANIE

Nods at Chiang, indicating Tony.

CHIANG

Nods.

MELANIE

Do you men think this body needs guarding?

TONY

elbows his way through laughing Men. Melanie embraces Tony.

MELANIE

Oh, Tony!

TONY

What in Hell are you doing?

MELANIE

I in Hell am playing movie star.

Get me out of this?

Melanie clutches Tony’s arm and starts through Men.

MELANIE (Cont’d)

I’m sorry, fellas. Tony wants

me all for his ownsome. Wife-break!

FOLLOW TONY AND MELANIE through reluctantly-parting Men.

QUICK SHOTS OF

Men and Wives react to this juicy item (Some jealous Wives grab drinks from passing butler). Chiang coolly absorbs information.

TONY AND MELANIE

FOLLOW Tony and Melanie to a neutral corner.

MELANIE

We have to talk.

TONY

Gee, you can walk and talk at

the same time.

MELANIE

(searching his eyes)

Tony, what’s wrong?

TONY

Did you hear what happened on the road?

MELANIE

Yes.

TONY

People were hurt. People were killed.

MELANIE

I thought around here that’s like

saying the sun rose.

TONY

You adjust fast.

MELANIE

You’re my role model.

(sincerely)

Look, of course I’m appalled at what

happened to those people — on both sides.

I’m just supposed to be silly and tweety

at these things, okay?

TONY

Just doing your job?

MELANIE

I always do my job —

(meaningfully)

If I know what it is.

TONY

What’s up your ass?

MELANIE

My vibrator. Can’t tweet without it.

(trying to be serious)

Look, you know everybody here. I want

you to find out something for me.

TONY

The ladies’ room is over there.

INSERT

— Melanie’s high heel grinds into Tony’s instep, hard.

TONY AND MELANIE

Tony grimaces in pain. Melanie glowers at him, smiles “tweety.”

TONY

Of course, if you’d prefer the men’s —

MELANIE

I’d prefer to know when and where I’m

appearing?

TONY

What’s it to you?

MELANIE

I have a right to know.

TONY

It’s kept secret to protect you.

MELANIE

Tell me the secret. I’ll protect you.

TONY

You’re due at the Looing-Fo Replacement

Base at eleven-hundred hours tomorrow, okay? Can you get off my foot now?

MELANIE

Looing-Fo — ?

TONY

Replacement Base, yes.

MELANIE

Eleven hundred hours.

(sudden “boob bunny”)

That’s a long show!

(interested)

And how did you know?

TONY

Thain is the world’s biggest grapevine.

Everybody knows everything.

MELANIE

Then why didn’t I?

TONY

Yours is not just any body.

MELANIE

(beginning to burn)

Keeping me under wraps, are they?

TONY

(of her dress)

More than you are. Look, you could

get grabbed like a dime on the street.

MELANIE

Well, it’s nice to know my street value.

Those chauvinist sons-of-bitches.

TONY

Don’t talk like that. I told you,

Thain is an echo chamber. Information

spreads faster than clap.

MELANIE

(ready for fun)

Oh, it does? Does it really? It

really does? Let’s us see now!

Melanie, suddenly tweety, grabs drinks from Waiters, shams drunk.

MELANIE (Cont’d)

(shouts)

Hey, everybody! Here! Here!

THE GUESTS

Melanie’s shout gets Guest’s attention, as if she didn’t have it.

MELANIE AND TONY

Melanie moves out among Guests. Tony stands stunned, then claws through Guests to Melanie.

MELANIE (Cont’d)

Did you hear that this handsome devil

Is my new fortune-cookie? Why didn’t

somebody tell me that Eurasians are the

best boys in captivity? I guess they

get the best of both hemispheres, huh?

(shaking her own “hemispheres”)

Oooooh, what has Melanie said now?

I’m just dying to get him alone in the

jungle at —

(doubles her volume)

— LOOING-FO! So he can go ape, man!

CORNER FEATURING CHIANG

Guests gape at Melanie. Chiang listens attentively.

TONY AND MELANIE

Tony reaches Melanie, would grab her, but a Man stops him.

MAN

Fringe benefits, Tony?

Tony shakes Man off and starts after Melanie. A Woman stops Tony.

WOMAN

You never answer my calls, Tony.

Tony shrugs and gets away.

TONY’S POV/MELANIE

–dancing drunkenly, maneuvers near Chiang’s corner.

MELANIE

I mean, usually I’m lucky if they

have hot water where I entertain.

But Tony is boiling!

Tony, “boiling” indeed, reaches Melanie.

MELANIE (Cont’d)

In fact, he’s just what I’ve been

“LOOING FO” all my life!

Melanie throws her arms around Tony.

ANGLE OVER TONY’S SHOULDER

MELANIE (Cont’d)

Oooooh, I could hug him for eleven

hundred hours!

Melanie looks questioningly at Chiang.

CHIANG

Gives a curt nod.

TONY AND MELANIE

Tony grabs Melanie with both hands and starts dragging her away.

TONY

(between clinched teeth)

You keep behaving like this, I’ll

never fuck you again.

MELANIE

(similarly)

Like you had a Chinaman’s chance.

(loudly to all)

I told him, “No, no!” but he thought

a double negative meant, “Yes!”

FOLLOW TONY AND MELANIE as he bodily propels her through Guests to

ENTRANCE FOYER

where Tony seizes Melanie’s wrap from the nonplused Jake and drags her through the door. Melanie pokes her head back in briefly.

MELANIE

Thanks for having me. I adore being had.

Tony’s arm appears from outside and snatches Melanie away.

ANGLE ON GUESTS

Guests stare stupidly for a moment, then all become wildly animated and chatter, except for the stark-still Chiang.

CUT TO:

EXT. AMERICAN EMBASSY – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

In light from the open Embassy door, Tony, clawing car-keys from his pocket with free hand, drags Melanie, flailing her wrap, down the steps past astonished GUARDS. [NOTE: There are no exterior lights.]

MELANIE

Okay, okay, enough. Don’t be rough.

Guard gasps at Melanie, then remembers himself, shouts.

GUARD

Jake, kill that light!

Jake slams Embassy door with a BANG!

FOLLOW TONY AND MELANIE

to jeep, top up. Tony kicks door open, flings Melanie in, leaps over hood, gets in, reaches across, slams her door, takes off down totally dark street with his door open, slams it in transit.

MELANIE

Where are you taking me?

TONY

Where you belong. To a kennel!

MELANIE

You’re hurting me!

TONY

I feel your pain.

CUT TO:

INT./EXT./ TONY’S JEEP – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Tony races hell-for-leather, no lights. Melanie wrestles wrap.

MELANIE

Oh, take a joke.

TONY

You foreign fuck!

MELANIE

I’ve made you famous.

TONY

I’ll make you scream!

MELANIE

Don’t believe your own publicity.

INSERT

Tony’s hand switches on car’s lights.

INT./EXT. THE JEEP – DAY – CONTINUOUS

ANGLE ON TONY

THE WAY WE WAR – Part 2 of 3

https://robertpatrickpersonal.wordpress.com/2009/07/13/screenplay-the-way-we-war-by-robert-patrick-part-2-of-3/

screenplay DELUSION by Robert Patrick

“DELUSION”

an original screenplay

by

Robert Patrick

 

c 2004

ROBERT PATRICK

#211

1837 N. Alexandria Ave.

L.A, CA 90027

Tel: (323) – 661-4737

rbrtptrck@aol.com

 

CAST OF “DELUSION” (in order of appearance)

Retired Man

Blue, his dog

Connie Escher, an attractive teacher of thirty

Uniformed Attendant (at gate of Macro school)

Macro Students, male and female, thirteen to fifteen

Corey, a disturbed student, fifteen

Kelly, a beautiful female student, fifteen

Garrison, a handsome male student, fifteen

The History Class (the reincarnated students), a dozen bright students, fifteen

Teachers Lounge Attendant, an innocuous older person (an “old soul”)

Ms. Phipps, a nervous older teacher

Teachers Two and Three, innocuous

Teacher Four, the art teacher, snide and bitter (an “old soul”)

Radio announcer (V.O. )

Mrs. Decatur (mail-room lady)

The Hartley’s Butler

Mrs. Hartley (murdered student’s parent), blank and shallow

Townies (passersby)

Looney Hippie, a street-speaker

Street Gang Members (passersby)

Man With a Van (delivering newspapers to a stand)

Floyd Carter, a nervous student, fifteen

Doctor Simms, music professor

Coach

Science Teacher

School, Psychiatrist

Mrs. Carter, Floyd’s mother, below the Macro average socially

Mr. Carter, Floyd’s father, the same

Lee Summit, psychiatrist, Connie’s former lover, strong and sensitive

Country Western Singer

College Students

Slum Gang Members (in car, passersby)

Black Woman at slum school

Macro Principal, stuffy

Mr. and Mrs. Lindstrom (Kelly’s parents), blank and shallow

The Hardwicks’ Maid

Mrs. Fiedler, blank and shallow

Mrs. Larramie., blank and shallow

FADE IN:

EXT. INDIAN CLIFFS – EARLY MORNING

A circle of great standing stones, an ancient Indian monument. The circle of standing stones surrounds a natural sunken amphitheater.

Early morning fog hangs like a shroud.

ANOTHER ANGLE

A MAN, a retiree in jogging suit, takes a morning walk with his well-groomed DOG.

The man tosses a stick and the dog takes off after it like shot, disappearing into the fog.

A beat as the man waits for the dog to return. He cocks his head — old Blue never takes this long.

MAN: Blue? Here, boy…

Nothing.

MAN: Blue?

The man starts into the fog.

MOVING

with the man as he walks. As he ventures farther, WE HEAR a – SLURPING SOUND.

MAN’S POV

as the back of the dog comes INTO VIEW. The animal is bent over something, eating.

MAN: Blue! What the —

The dog turns at his master’s voice. His muzzle is covered with a dark smear. The man recoils —

– lying there smashed on the rocks is the body of a girl, twisted unnaturally and dressed in a school uniform. The dog turns back and continues his breakfast.

CUT TO:

EXT, CONNIE’S HOME – DAY

A pleasant small home in a peaceful neighborhood. Silence for a moment, and then a BAROQUE QUARTET begins, dignified, stately, orderly music.

INT. CONNIE’S HOME – DAY

The MUSIC is coming from Connie’s clock radio. The clock reads 6:30. Beside it is a graduation photo of a younger Connie and handsome young LEE SUMMIT in graduation robes waving their diplomas, their arms around each other.

CONNIE ESCHER swings out of bed. Connie is a handsome woman in her early thirties, with a fine posture and kind features.

To the strains of the MUSIC, Connie methodically showers and dresses. During this sequence, we see that Connie’s home is tastefully appointed. There are books everywhere, lovely pictures, comfortable furniture—but no evidence of any other inhabitant.

INT. CONNIE’S BEDROOM – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Connie emerges from bathroom in a tailored suit, puts on a walkman at her dresser, turns off the MUSIC,

INT. CONNIE’S LIVING ROOM – DAY -CONTINUOUS

Connie walks through the room to her front door. She picks up a briefcase and leaves the house.

EXT. CONNIE’S HOUSE – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Connie leaves the house and strides to her car. In the car, she starts the motor, pulls away.

EXT./INT. CONNIE’S CAR – DAY – CONTINUOUS

In the car, Connie turns on her walkman. The same BAROQUE MUSIC starts again.

EXT. CITY STREETS – DAY – CONTINUOUS

TRAVELING TITLES SEQUENCE: AS TITLES BEGIN, We FOLLOW Connie’s car as it pulls from the nice neighborhood into a deplorable slum, onto a freeway, past smoking factories, junkyards, blighted areas, abandoned buildings, glaring billboards, through a depressed downtown area with homeless, drunks, and junkies crowding the streets—through everything wretched about modern life.

Included in this scenery are political and religious BILLBOARDS, for and against everything, i.e., both “ABORTION KILLS,” and “VOTE FOR CHOICE.” Among the billboards, BUT NOT PARTICULARLY FEATURED, is one reading, “YOU MUST BE BORN AGAIN.”

Throughout, the BAROQUE MUSIC continues in ironic contrast to the squalor Connie drives through.

At last Connie comes to a brick-fenced institution which takes up many blocks in the midst of another slum. The brick wall is covered with ivy, and has spikes atop it to prevent anyone climbing in. WE FOLLOW Connie’s car to the gate, opened by a UNIFORMED ATTENDANT who tips his hat to Connie and smiles.

The gate closes in our face. On them is a brass plaque reading “MACRO SCHOOL FOR THE GIFTED.”

TITLES and MUSIC END.

EXT. MACRO SCHOOL – DAY – CONTINUOUS

THE PARKING LOT

As Connie’s car disappears among others.

THE COURTYARD

The Macro School, a facility for well-to-do intellectual Junior High School-age students, from thirteen to fifteen years old.

Everything about the school is in stark contrast to the ugly slum outside. The school is tasteful, kept in pristine condition, a retreat of medieval architecture and gracious landscaping.

STUDENTS, male and female, are en route, some rapidly, some at leisure, to their first classes across a large courtyard. ALL STUDENTS, male and female, wear a distinctive blazer and shorts, high socks and brogans.

One student, COREY, youngish and very frazzled-looking, has set up a card table with many brochures and placards. The placards are for international causes. Corey waves a placard and shouts:

COREY: We have to make this planet a better world! Save the planet! End aggression! Stop war! End hunger! Outlaw pollution! We have to make this planet a better world!

Suddenly a GROUP of students, male and female, including KELLY and GARRISON, the best-looking girl and boy at school, charges Corey and shatters and scatters his display, yelling:

GROUP: End freaks! Stop freaks! Outlaw freaks! End freaks! Stop freaks! Outlaw freaks!

The Group flees and is instantly lost in the similarly-dressed crowd.

Corey sits desolate and crying in the rubble of his display.

Connie comes around a corner and sees Corey.

Connie runs to kneel by Corey. She wipes his face with a handkerchief and prods him to test for damage.

CONNIE: Corey, what’s wrong? Are you all right?

COREY: Yes. Yes. I’m all right. Thank you, Ms. Escher.

CONNIE: What happened here?

COREY: It was – it was tough town-kids. Nobody from here.

CONNIE: Why would they do this to you?

COREY: Oh, those street-gangs beat up anyone who fights for social causes. (a beat) It was kids from town.

Connie shakes her head and starts to try to straighten up the mess. Corey helps her.

CONNIE: I never understand people. All of you children here at Macro are so devoted to so many social causes, and the very people you’re trying to help harass you.

Corey and Connie are both crouched down, cleaning up, nearly nose-to-nose.

CONNIE: It’s like Nazi Germany.

At this, Corey stops and stares at Connie. Connie is startled by the intensity of his stare.

COREY: Were you there?

Connie manages an uneasy smile.

CONNIE: No, Corey. I’m not quite that old. But I’ve seen terrible things. (a beat) Well, you better go get yourself to the school nurse. If she thinks you should go home or to the hospital, you do so.

COREY: Oh, no, Ms. Escher. I can’t miss history class.

CONNIE: I’ll take that as a compliment. The custodian will clean up this wreckage. You get going.

With a curious look at Connie, Corey dashes away.

Connie looks at a surviving placard which reads, “We Must Make This Planet A Better Place.”

She drops it reluctantly and walks away.

From the shadow of an arcade, the Group that harassed Corey stands watching, to all appearances quiet kids.

Kelly and Garrison watch with special interest.

INT. HALLWAY – DAY – CONTINUOUS

FOLLOW Connie down a hallway with uniformed students walking past, some smiling brightly at the popular teacher.

Connie comes to a door marked “Faculty Lounge,” She pushes it open and enters.

INT. THE FACULTY LOUNGE – DAY – CONTINUOUS

BAROQUE MUSIC. The faculty lounge is fairly luxurious, constant coffee-service with an ATTENDANT, groups of chairs and sofas (not junky) around coffee-tables, a couple of desks in corners for those seeking solitude.

A number of TEACHERS are present, all older than Connie. One group, including MS. PHIPPS, a nervous older woman, is seated around a table examining a newspaper with consternation.

Connie enters and goes directly to the coffee-service. The ATTENDANT smiles, holds up a finger, and begins preparing a coffee-to-go for Connie, clearly a favorite. Connie nods in appreciation and checks her watch.

MS. PHIPPS, carrying newspaper, leaves her group and approaches Connie.

PHIPPS: Connie, Connie, did you hear?

CONNIE: Some town children just beat up Corey Henry.

PHIPPS: No, no, look here! (brandishes newspaper) That pretty little Jennifer Hartley committed suicide!

ANGLE ON

the front page of the newspaper. The headline reads: “MACRO STUDENT DIES.” There is a memorable photo of Jennifer Hartley, a pretty, intense young girl whose body we saw earlier..

Connie take the paper and reads it, shocked.

CONNIE: But she was so bright! She had a fascinating idea for her term-paper!

PHIPPS: We had two suicides last year.

CONNIE: But why? These children have everything! What drives them to this?

PHIPPS: We thought maybe you could tell us.

TEACHER TWO: With all your experience in those awful slum schools.

TEACHER THREE: All those awful gang-murders.

CONNIE: I never understood that, either. I thought things would be better here.

TEACHER FOUR: (snidely) Well, I’m sure our coffee’s better.

The Attendant is at Connie’s side with her coffee-to-go.

ATTENDANT: Weren’t you in a hurry, Ms. Escher?

CONNIE: (takes coffee) Oh, yes, thank you. I’ve got an appointment. Kelly Lindstrom. She’s falling ridiculously behind in her grades –

TEACHER FOUR: (takes paper from Connie) We must move on.

CONNIE: Dear Lord, we have to try.

Connie leaves.

PHIPPS: Oh, dear, I hoped she could explain. She’s so fresh and bright.

Attendant and Teacher Four exchange worried looks.

INT. CONNIE’S OFFICE – DAY – A FEW MINUTES LATER

A well-furnished small room, desk, shelves, a chair for visitors. Conspicuous on the desk is a framed photo of a younger Connie, with LEE, a handsome, bright-looking man a little older, posing by bicycles. Connie is sipping her coffee, leafing through Kelly’s file, listening to a RADIO.

RADIO (V.O.): –heartbreaking news that fourteen- year-old Macro student Jennifer Hartley took her own life by leaping from Indian Cliff. Jennifer’s parents, wealthy philanthropists, were unable to comment today in their grief…

A KNOCK surprises Connie. She turns off the radio as she turns to see Kelly, pretty and cold of manner, standing in the open office door.

CONNIE: Kelly! Good morning. Have a seat.

Connie opens Kelly’s file. Kelly sits, slouched and sullen.

CONNIE: And how are you feeling? Well, I guess you know why we asked you in today.

KELLY: (suspicious) We?

CONNIE: Well, I. But there is concern among the entire faculty about your grades.

KELLY: The faculty. Is that who you meant by “we?”

CONNIE: Well, of course, Kelly. When a student with your I.Q. and your grade average suddenly slumps, we’re all concerned. I thought perhaps — that you might want to — that you might have some thing, or things, you wanted to discuss. We’ve all been adolescents, you know. We weren’t always grown-ups. We’ve been through the storms and earthquakes you’re going through.

KELLY: Hah!

CONNIE: Are there – perhaps — things you don’t understand about the maturing process you’re undergoing? A child as bright as you – some people think you know everything. Possibly even your parents don’t know you need guidance.

KELLY: My parents are perfect.

CONNIE: Yes, I’ve read your file. But I do know something of how lonely an exceptionally intelligent child can be.

KELLY: Are you new?

CONNIE: I beg your pardon? Yes, this is my first term here. I worked for several years in slum schools in depressed areas.

KELLY: Never mind.

CONNIE: But there are universal problems that come with puberty –

KELLY: Are you thinking I’m pregnant? Don’t worry. I’m never going to be pregnant. Young people of my social class are reproducing less and less, hadn’t you noticed? Can I go now?

CONNIE: Kelly, please. I don’t mean to sound coy or suspicious. Look, I see I can be frank with you. If I sound careful or tentative, it’s largely because of your manner. You seem sullen, angry, and disappointed. Naturally, that would make anyone cautious. Does that make you feel better? Put that ball in your court? Make you feel more in command?

KELLY: Oh, I’m in command, Teach. My class constitutes only five percent of the people in the world, but we control ninety-five-percent of the wealth, and all of the power. The future is in our hands.

CONNIE: Do you think because of that wealth and power it isn’t necessary to achieve anything on your own? You’re wrong, Kelly.

Kelly looks on, disinterested.

CONNIE: It may make you feel confident to know you can live on your trust-fund, but believe me, when you leave school you’ll find that your power carries with it a load of responsibility. When you see the homeless here and the starving abroad, the cities deteriorating and the environment polluted, and crime and revolution multiplying, you’ll have to choose whether you’re going to do something about it or live in terror behind locked doors and hired guards. I worked like a dog on scholarships to get myself out of that environment, so I know. Now, is that plain enough speaking for you?

KELLY: Bravo, Teacher. You sure know where the nerves are. Who told you?

Kelly rises and turns for the door.

CONNIE: What do you mean? Please sit down.

Kelly pauses at the door for a beat, her back to Connie. Finally she turns back and sighs.

KELLY: Oh, I’m, sorry. I don’t have time to figure you out. Or rather, I do. So I don’t have to do it now. I’m going. Unless you’re going to make a big thing out of it.

CONNIE: Kelly, I apologize. I spoke too harshly.

KELLY: No, no, you didn’t. I was rude. I’m sorry. I don’t have any cause to make you suffer. Your life is too short.

CONNIE: I’m not sure I understand that.

KELLY: Probably you don’t. Probably this was all your idea. Probably you care. Probably I’m crazy. So long, teacher.

Kelly goes to the door.

KELLY: Look, you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be all right.

Kelly exits. Connie sits looking quite stunned. Connie looks down at —

– the photo of Lee on her desk.

She picks up the phone and dials a number, then hangs up. She sits at her desk, quite disturbed.

A CLASS BELL RINGS. She looks at her watch, collects herself, stands and takes her briefcase and leaves.

INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY – DAY – CONTINUOUS

A hallway with student book lockers. Students rushing to classes. Kelly at her locker.

Garrison approaches Kelly. To all appearances, he is merely a handsome boy bird-dogging a pretty girl.

GARRISON: Hey, Kelly.

KELLY: Goof off, Garrison.

GARRISON: Hey, nothing suspicious about the handsomest boy in school cornering the prettiest girl.

KELLY: Hello, Ms. Escher!

Connie, passing, nods curtly at Kelly and walks on.

GARRISON: See you in class, Ms. Escher.

Kelly walks away, Garrison detains her.

GARRISON: Hey, let me walk with you.

KELLY: Along life’s shadowed highway?

GARRISON: That’s good. Prettiest girl in school. Snotty. Were you always the prettiest girl?

KELLY: No questions about the past, snoopy.

GARRISON: Look, don’t make me get tough.

KELLY: Why, how could a little girl like me make a big strong man like you do anything?

GARRISON: Listen, what did that zero in there want with you?

KELLY: She hypnotized me and drew all our terrible secrets out of me.

GARRISON: Don’t kid me. What did you tell her?

KELLY: I didn’t tell her anything. Why overload a harmless little computer?

GARRISON: You’re not telling me everything.

KELLY: That’s my plan.

They stop at a window marked MAIL ROOM. The MAIL LADY (MS. DECATUR) appears.

KELLY: Anything for me, Ms. Decatur?

MS. DECATUR: Oh, yes, Kelly. More of those special orders.

Ms. Decatur disappears.

KELLY: Look, she wanted to know about my term-paper, all right?

GARRISON: Obscure references you can’t quote published sources for?

Kelly is puzzled by his question.

MS. DECATUR (reappears with packages): These are all for you, Kelly. Movies, movies, movies.

KELLY: (drops packages in book-bag) Thank you, Ms. Decatur.

Kelly goes on down hall. Garrison tags along.

KELLY: Who appointed you guardian of term- papers, anyway? Was there an all-male high council meeting?

GARRISON: She’s dangerous. She’s smart.

KELLY: She’ll be dead in fifty years. Forever.

GARRISON: (really cornering her) Look, Kell, just tell me what happened.

KELLY: Oh, slime-ball, she thinks the onset of feminine maturity has me disoriented in my ultra-advantaged social infrastructure. I played sullen and uncaring and she’ll probably prescribe a feminine analgesic. Answer your questions? (a beat) Now answer mine: Did you hear Jennifer Hartley — (makes ironic ‘in quotes ‘ marks with her fingers) — ‘committed suicide’ yesterday?

Garrison freezes, looks left and right quickly.

KELLY: You knew.

She starts away; he stops her.

GARRISON: She knew more about fifteenth century convents in Spain than most fourteen year old girls do. Escher ask you about that?

KELLY: Are you crazy?

GARRISON: That isn’t polite.

KELLY: It’s not polite accusing people of treason, either.

GARRISON: I didn’t accuse you.

KELLY: Just remember, anyone can accuse anyone before the Council.

GARRISON: This isn’t like you. Or is this the real you?

KELLY: Maybe it’s History Class. All those intrigues of the Byzantine emperors. History is so educational, don’t you find?

Kelly starts to enter a door. Garrison grabs her arm. She looks down at his hand disdainfully, then straight into his face.

KELLY: We don’t want to call attention to ourselves, do we? (a beat) Like Jennifer Hartley did?

He releases her arm and she enters the room, slams the door in his face. The door reads VIDEO EDITING LAB. Garrison kicks it and moves on.

INT. VIDEO EDITING LAB – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Kelly laughs as Garrison kicks door, then opens her book-bag and takes out tapes. Her smile fades.

CLOSE ON BOOK-BAG

Out of the book-bag, Kelly’s hand takes a package. She rips it open and takes out three tapes, titled, DISASTERS!, MASSACRES!, HOLOCAUST!

CUT TO:

INT. CONNIE’S CLASSROOM – (A LITTLE LATER THAT) DAY

Pleasant room with many posters and pictures of historical events and figures.

Just over a dozen uniformed students in seats, including Corey, Kelly and Garrison.

The blackboard features an impressive chart of names from Roman, Byzantine, Islamic, and Jewish medieval history.

CONNIE: …so we will learn this semester that medieval history reflects principally the gigantic attempts of three great religions, Christianity, Islam, and Judaism, to deal with their own internal conflicts, their conflicts with each other, and recurrent onslaughts of barbarian forces from the North –

GARRISON: The people from the North didn’t consider themselves barbarians. They believed in their gods.

COREY: And the three faiths called each other barbarians, too. They all felt surrounded by barbarians.

CONNIE: Not always. The Islamic nations regarded both Jews and Christians as natural allies because they shared some holy books. And many Christian rulers taught tolerance for the Jews. And Jewish leaders often counseled peaceful co-existence. People can cooperate.

BOY ONE: They only got together when they had common enemies.

GIRL ONE: And some of those enemies were really common.

KELLY: So what happened?

CONNIE: I beg your pardon?

KELLY: Why was there always war?

CONNIE: That’s the eternal question, the one we all must work to solve.

BOY TWO: The Mongols and the Vikings, why weren’t their faiths – “great faiths?”

GIRL TWO: Because they couldn’t write.

GARRISON: Cut it out.

CONNIE: No, these are important questions!

GIRL THREE: And in the Americas, Incas and Aztecs and Amerindians –

BOY THREE: – and Eskimos!

GIRL THREE: – and Eskimos, sure, they had their own faiths! Why don’t we study them?

BOY FOUR: And Africans!

GIRL FOUR: And Polynesians

CONNIE: Only because Western Europeans weren’t yet in touch with them.

Boys and Girls Two, Three, and Four ad lib exasperated disgust: “Right?” “See?” “That’s the story,” etc.

GIRL ONE: And Persians and Indians and Chinese!

GARRISON: Yeah, and Zoroastrianism and Buddhism and Shintoism and Confucianism were all in full swing! Why not study them all?

BOY FIVE: The classical Greeks and the ancient Earth religions, why don’t we study those?

BOY ONE: Because we don’t care!

GIRL TWO: Because we have enough to study.

GARRISON: Because they’re historically irrelevant!

COREY: (almost a shriek) Because it was always the same story everywhere! Because it’s always intolerance and murder! (indicating the classroom) Because it’s just like this!

GARRISON: (stands, takes charge) Hey, leave Ms. Escher alone. She’s been assigned to teach us the facts of one era in one geographical and cultural context. That’s what she’s hired to do for us. She does as she’s told. I think she’s an example to us all, and I think we should give her a great big hand.

Garrison leads the class in applause for Connie. She is confused but flattered.

CONNIE: Why, thank you. Thank you, Garrison, But every question you’ve all asked are good ones. Great ones. I can’t tell you what a privilege it is to work with students so intelligent and so inquiring. I’m not sure I’m adequate to answer all your questions. If I can only encourage you all to keep seeking the answers, I’ll feel that my move here was justified.

GIRL FIVE: Gee, she sounds like Buddha.

BOY SIX: Buddha was a pest.

KELLY: So in his honor they named a city Budapest!

A BELL RINGS.

CONNIE: There’s the bell. I look forward to seeing you all tomorrow.

Students start filing out, slowly, whispering to one another.

Connie turns her back to erase the blackboard. Kelly lingers.

When Garrison notices this, he lingers, too.

Corey lingers at the door, looking upset, tortured really. Connie notices.

CONNIE: What’s the matter, Corey?

COREY: Those bells. They always remind me of the bells at Auschwitz.

Garrison and Kelly react to this.

CONNIE: Are you interested in that period, Corey? Perhaps you’ll write about it for your term paper.

COREY: (with a glance at Kelly and Garrison) No. No. I’m writing about the Pilgrim Fathers.

KELLY: And mothers!

CONNIE: Of course you can choose your own subject, but I wonder why all of you pick such tame topics, especially after these wonderful discussions in class –

Kelly and Garrison and Corey all react to this by assuming flat, dead expressions.

CONNIE: (not noticing their reaction) – except that poor little Jennifer Hartley, she had such imagination.

COREY: I gotta go.

And he exits.

Kelly and Garrison start after him, but Connie stops them with:

CONNIE: Kelly, Garrison, thank you for starting such a stimulating discussion.

KELLY: (with a glance at Garrison) I just — I just wanted to show you that I intend to do better.

CONNIE: I appreciate it. I’ve been meaning to ask you, have you picked your term-paper topic?

Garrison reacts to this. Kelly notices.

KELLY: No, I’m still thinking and reading.

She pats her bulging book-bag.

GARRISON: (aware of Connie watching) Don’t think too hard. It’ll wrinkle your perm. Come on. I’ll buy you lunch.

KELLY: (similarly aware) No, you won’t.

She starts out, he follows, Connie watches.

GARRISON: Sure I will. It’s been decided.

KELLY: By higher powers?

GARRISON: You’re nuts!

Kelly steps back to let him exit first.

KELLY: After yours.

He fumes out, Kelly winks at Connie, Connie smiles.

INT. HALLWAY – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Garrison and Kelly emerge from classroom. His manner changes abruptly.

GARRISON: Look, stupid, get your grades up, all right? But don’t give a zero any clues they can’t handle.

KELLY: Don’t call her that. Did you see the tears in her eyes?

GARRISON: Asthma.

KELLY: I’m not sure she’s a zero.

GARRISON: She’s at least thirty. If she was one of us, she’d know by now.

KELLY: That’s not always true. She came from an ignorant background. Besides, maybe she’s in hiding, too. Maybe she’s scared – like us.

GARRISON: Sometimes it’s smart to be scared.

KELLY: Is that a threat? What is this lunch about?

GARRISON: Don’t tremble. I want to talk to you about Corey.

KELLY: What about Corey?

GARRISON: I think he’s slipping. I’m worried about his term paper.

KELLY: How worried?

GARRISON: Bad worried.

KELLY: As worried as you were about Jennifer Hartley?

GARRISON: Don’t say that name.

KELLY: Jennifer Hartley, Jennifer Hartley, Jennifer Hartley —

Garrison clearly is about to strike Kelly. He sees Connie approaching down the hall. He presses Kelly against the wall and shuts her up by kissing her, hard.

Connie passes, with an expression compounded of faculty disapproval and sympathetic amusement.

Kelly slaps Garrison. WE SEE Connie’s reaction to this only from the back as she hurries away.

KELLY: Don’t make me do that again.

GARRISON: It’s human nature. My, my, teacher saw us. Now she won’t think your hormonal changes are disorienting you.

KELLY: Don’t worry about her.

GARRISON: Why do you care?

KELLY: Come here.

She pulls him to her for a real kiss. She releases him.

KELLY: Now don’t worry about her, okay?

GARRISON: You’re taking advantage of my hormonal changes.

KELLY: Will it get me lunch?

GARRISON: It might get you a throne.

They start walking toward the courtyard.

GARRI SON: It’s damned sure you weren’t a nun in your last life.

She kicks him. He laughs. They continue into the courtyard.

EXT. COURTYARD – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Kelly and Garrison enter the courtyard to find Corey, with his mended card-table and patched signs, back at his original stand.

COREY: Stop war! End hunger! Outlaw pollution! Reduce population! It’s up to us! Our generation can do it

ANOTHER ANGLE

The History Class stands in the huddle, regarding Corey. One Boy starts toward him, but a Girl plucks his sleeve and directs their attention to Connie, in the arcade across the courtyard, watching Corey. The Boy returns to the group.

GARRISON: See? You never know who’s watching.

Garrison looks back toward Corey with real distaste.

GARRISON: He’s losing it. We’ve got to do something about him.

KELLY: I agree. If we have to. (indicates Connie) But not her, okay?

Garrison looks at her, Connie, the Group, Corey, back at Kelly.

GARRISON: We’ll see.

PULLING BACK

from Connie on one side of the courtyard, looking thoughtful and troubled, tracking back to include the History Class and Kelly and Garrison on the other, and Corey at the center, still shouting:

COREY: Save the human race! Save the Earth Our generation must do it! We have to make this world a better place! (With increasing desperation) We have to! We have to!

EXT. THE HARTLEY HOME – NIGHT

An obviously expensive home in a spacious neighborhood. Connie’s car is in the driveway. She walks to the door, rings the bell. A mourning wreath is on the door.

A BUTLER opens the door.

CUT TO:

INT. THE HARTLEY HOME – PARLOR – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Connie, still in her coat, stands waiting, looking a bit intimidated by the surroundings. Her gaze is drawn to a mantel and a photograph of Jennifer Hartley, looking little like a girl who would kill herself. Connie is shaken from her spell as:

MRS. HARTLEY (O.S.): Yes, I’m Ione Hartley?

Connie stiffens slightly as MRS. HARTLEY, a slightly-older matron in unadorned black, enters and comes to her.

CONNIE: Mrs. Hartley, I’m Connie Escher; I was Jennifer’s history teacher. May I talk with you?

MRS. HARTLEY: Of course. Won’t you sit down?

They sit.

CONNIE: I know it’s very soon after your tragedy, but I wanted to pay my respects and tell you how sorry I am. Jennifer was a wonderful girl.

MRS. HARTLEY: Thank you. That’s very good to hear.

CONNIE: Mrs. Hartley, this isn’t the first time this has happened. Last year, they tell me, two Macro students ended their own lives. And it isn’t just here. Nationwide, bright, advantaged students are doing what Jennifer did. And no one knows why. There’s seldom anything to indicate that they were using drugs or that their homes were anything but harmonious.

MRS. HARTLEY: I don’t think it can have been anything like that. We had a list of the eight signs of drug use and the ten signs of depression, and she never showed any of them.

CONNIE: If we can find some cause, some reason, for these tragedies, we might be able to find these troubled children and help them. It would be a sort of memorial to your daughter. Can you give me any hint that would even lead to a reason, a cause?

MRS. HARTLEY: Jennifer was so adult, so focused, so sure of her road in life.

CONNIE: Had there been any change in her behavior, anything at all?

MRS. HARTLEY: She had begun staying in more often, seeing her friends a little less, but that was only because she was so involved in a term-paper. Why, it was for you, I believe.

CONNIE: Yes. She had chosen a very promising topic. She was hard-working, ambitious. Did she — I hope this isn’t indelicate of me – did you find her term paper in her room?

MRS. HARTLEY: No. Nothing like that. She may have had it with her. She just didn’t come home one night, you see.

CONNIE: It’s brutal of me to question you like this.

MRS. HARTLEY: No, it shows that you care. And teachers should, shouldn’t they? I mean, that’s good, isn’t it?

CONNIE: I hope so.

Connie stands.

CONNIE: I’m sure you want to be alone.

MRS. HARTLEY: Actually, we’re going out. We’re on the board of a committee to send food to Central Asian refugees. You don’t think it’s awful, our going out?

CONNIE: Of course not. It’s very fine of you. It’s a worthy cause.

MRS. HARTLEY: It’s because of Jennifer. She urged us to go into it. She cared so much for making this world a better place.

Connie cocks her head at this echo of Corey.

EXT. CITY STREETS – (LATER THAT) NIGHT

A ‘townie’ section, somewhat slummy. Connie, driving home, stops for a red light. On the corner to her right, a LOONEY HIPPIE on a milk-crate is preaching, waving a placard. All of this from Connie’s POV. STREET GANGS walk by. Connie observes, frightened for the Hippie. The Street Gangs walk by without incident.

A horn HONKS behind Connie. She pulls into a parking-space and watches. No one bothers, or even notices, the Hippie.

Connie gets out of her car and stands, leaning against a newspaper-vending machine, watching.

HIPPIE: .Alien forces are here! They are present even as I speak! Evil has taken over human civilization! Vast international conspiracies rule our lives! Awaken to the threat of insidious domination! On every side the forces of evil gather! Mind- controlling drugs are in your food, your water, in the very air we breathe! Hostile armies hypnotized by flying saucers are massed at our very borders! Secret coded messages from your television are warping your perceptions! The churches are infiltrated with robot agents!

Connie watches Hippie and remembers –

COREY’S VOICE (V.O. ) It was – it was tough town-kids. Those street-gangs beat up anyone who fights for social causes.

Several packs of gang kids pass by, ignoring the Hippie’s rant.

Under this speech, Connie observes the non-molestation of the Hippie. A hand taps her shoulder. She jumps, startled, but it’s only a MAN FROM A VAN with fresh newspapers.

She steps aside, embarrassed, as the man loads new newspapers into the machine and the Hippie rants on.

Connie turns to go and sees the headline on the fresh paper in the window of the machine:

‘FOURTH MACRO STUDENT KILLS SELF!” There is Corey’s photograph.

INT. CONNIE’S CLASSROOM – (THE NEXT) DAY

The history class (except of course, for Corey) are all present. Connie, visibly tense, is at the blackboard, just ending the class.

CONNIE: …the merchant guilds became more powerful as popes and kings waged war on one another. However, the merchants’ profits depended on freedom for international trade, and as they organized, wars became shorter and less frequent. With the triumph of trade, the Middle Ages ended and Renaissance began.

She sighs and surveys the quiet class.

CONNIE: It may not be my place to say this, but I know you all must be disturbed by the terrible tragedies that have befallen two of your classmates. It’s — a rough world out there, and even in your protected position, the anxieties and horrors of the larger world reach in and cause you fear and stress. I just want to say that, although I know you all have fine parents and caring councilors, if any of you should ever need to talk, I — and I’m sure all your teachers — am– are — always available to you.

The Class watches quietly, politely.

CONNIE: (back to business) I’ve received term-paper topics from most of you. Those who haven’t yet turned them in, well, you know who you are.

The BELL RINGS. Class quietly starts filing out. Kelly passes Connie’s desk.

CONNIE: Kelly, how are you?

KELLY: What? Me? Oh, I’m fine, Ms. Escher. Everything is fine.

CONNIE: How’s that term-paper?

KELLY: (pats book bag) Oh, fine. Just fine.

Kelly exits, quickly.

Garrison stands with others from The Group, watching Kelly leave but not following. Connie notes this, gathers her materials, and leaves.

As soon as Connie goes, The Group starts a heated discussion.

A GIRL: Okay, what’s up? What did Ms. Escher mean, “if we need to talk?”

A BOY: She didn’t mean anything. She’s a zero.

GARRISON: I’m not so sure.

A GIRL: You think she’s an Old One?

A BOY: Maybe a spy for an Old One.

GARRISON: More like a Solitary.

A BOY: This isn’t anything to be discussing on the campus.

A GIRL: We can’t have a meeting. We’re having too many.

A BOY: Even my folks are getting suspicious.

GARRISON: We need to have a meeting. A major one.

A GIRL: What’s with Kelly, Garrison?

GARRISON: Kelly’s cool.

A BOY: Tell it to the Void. Something’s up.

GARRISON: Nothing’s up.

A GIRL: Ms. Escher keeps singling her out. She was showing interest in Corey, too.

GARRISON: What were you – an Indian mystic?

A BOY: No cracks about the past. You know that.

A GIRL: Our generation has to erase the past.

GARRISON: That’s what Hitler said.

It just hangs there for a beat. Frozen looks from the others.

GARRISON: I read it in history.

A GIRL: History is bunk.

A BOY: Who said that?

THE GIRL: How should I know? I’m a heedless, uncaring, indifferent modern youth.

A BOY: Somebody should look into Escher.

GARRISON: Everybody should stay away from Escher.

A GIRL: But that means ‘everybody,’ including Kelly.

GARRISON: I’ll talk to Kelly.

A BOY: Kelly’ s dangerous.

GARRISON: Everybody’ s dangerous.

A GIRL: What’s Kelly’s term-paper about?

GARRISON: Betsy Ross.

A BOY: You know that?

GARRISON: I’ll see to it.

A GIRL: It’s suspicious, every suicide being from History Class. It’s the only class we’re all in together.

GARRISON: So what are you saying?

THE GIRL: What are you hearing?

GARRISON: We need a suicide that isn’t taking History?

A BOY: Another suicide will attract more attention.

GARRISON: The right suicide would distract attention. What’s the problem? All we’d be doing would be subtracting a zero.

A GIRL: You sound like some Renaissance politician making plots.

GARRISON: You sound like an unfortunately disturbed upper-class teenager. –

A BOY: Don’t make threats.

GARRISON: Don’t get paranoid.

A GIRL: Don’t get bossy.

GARRISON: Don’t tell me what to do.

A BOY: Don’t be late.

GARRISON: For what?

THE BOY: For the meeting tonight.

A GIRL: I think it’s a bad idea.

GARRISON: What’s the matter? Can’t keep your parents busy? Find another worthwhile charity. You should never have trouble handling your parents. Remember, the Arabs found that calculation became much easier with the discovery of the zero…

EXT. MACRO SCHOOL – (ANOTHER) DAY – ESTABLISHING

The regular hustle and bustle of a school day.

INT. FACULTY LOUNGE – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Busy as usual. Numerous Teachers present, including Ms. Phipps and several other nervous older Teachers around one table.

Connie enters and stands inside the door. The Attendant waves and holds up a paper cup. Connie smiles and indicates, “No,” and points at the older Teachers’ table.

The Attendant frowns slightly in disapproval, but picks up a china cup and saucer.

Connie takes a deep breath and heads for the Teachers’ table, with:

CONNIE: Hi, guys!

They smile at her, except for Teacher Four.

CUT TO:

INT. TEACHERS’ LOUNGE – (A FEW MINUTES LATER THAT) DAY

Connie is deep in conversation with Phipps and the other Teachers, her saucer and empty coffee-cup in her hand.

CONNIE: .Yes, I agree, they’re not the usual kind of children at all, but, well, I guess I didn’t put it very clearly, but what I was trying to say was that I –

The Attendant takes Connie’s cup from her hand and replaces it with a full one.

CONNIE: – oh! Thank you.

The Attendant salutes and goes.

CONNIE: Where was I? Yes, what I’m really trying to find out is if any of you have noticed any clear degree of change in the kind of odd behavior among your students?

PHIPPS: Oh, but, Connie, I told you, they’re all odd.

TEACHER TWO: Some more odd than others. Some less.

TEACHER THREE: They’re exceptional.

TEACHER FOUR: They’re spoiled brats.

PHIPPS: Oh, no. Well, yes. Not all of them.

TEACHER TWO: Some of them are perfect.

TEACHER THREE: Anything unusually unusual? Is that what you mean?

CONNIE: Yes, exactly, that’s it.

TEACHER FOUR: Well, two of them committed suicide — that’s not exactly regulation behavior.

PHIPPS: Oh, that’s mean.

TEACHER THREE: Our Macro students are unusually well-behaved, unusually intelligent, unusually focused, unusually interested in societal betterment.

CONNIE: Yes. Poor little Corey was.

PHIPPS: Oh, dear.

CONNIE: Hardly any drugs, hardly any pregnancies.

TEACHER TWO: The only interest some of them show in sex is in their passion to legalize abortion.

TEACHER THREE: Oh, no, some of them, are adamantly against abortion.

PHIPPS: But they’re all interested in population control. One way or another.

TEACHER TWO: Some of them are fanatics about that.

TEACHER FOUR: And pollution and hunger and global warming, it’s all fads. Next year it’ll be back to purple hair and free love. You’re a history teacher — don’t these things go in fads?

CONNIE: You read history?

TEACHER FOUR: No. It gives me nightmares.

PHIPPS: Nurse says some of them suffer from nightmares.

TEACHER TWO: I read that it’s additives in the junk food that does that to them.

CONNIE: I never see any of them eating junk food. They seem to be fanatical about physical health.

PHIPPS: You’d have to ask Coach about that.

TEACHER THREE: I think this is the only school in America that has a vegetarian buffet in its lunchroom.

PHIPPS: Yes, that sweet Corey was – what do they say? – ‘hipped’ about that.

TEACHER TWO: And that poor Jennifer, too.

TEACHER FOUR: Maybe eating vegetables drove them nuts!

PHIPPS: Oh, you! But – doesn’t mental illness among the young always come from problems in the home? Didn’t I read that?

CONNIE: Do you ever hear any of them complain about their parents?

TEACHER FOUR: Perish the thought!

TEACHER TWO: There are hardly any problems at home for a lot of them.

CONNIE: Do the parents ever confide in any of you?

TEACHER THREE: Almost never.

TEACHER FOUR: These parents? Most of them are out every night dealing with their charities. Global consciousness to the max.

PHIPPS: Well, that’s good, isn’t it?

CONNIE: Do you think their parents neglect them for these noble interests?

TEACHER TWO: They seem so proud of their parents.

TEACHER THREE: And their parents seem so proud of them.

TEACHER FOUR: Perfect homes, perfect parents, perfect bodies, perfect minds, perfect teeth, perfect people.

CONNIE: Perfect… –

Again, Attendant and Teacher Four exchange concerned looks over Connie’s head.

INT. VIDEOTAPE EDITING LAB – DAY

A state-of-the-art facility. Kelly sits at multi-screen editing console, surrounded by tapes. On console screens, images of war and disaster flicker. Kelly punches buttons expertly, editing a sequence.

Door opens, letting in HALL NOISES. Kelly turns, startled. Garrison stands in doorway. He glances at screens. They all show early atomic bomb explosions.

GARRISON: We build better bombs now.

Kelly quickly hits switches, turning console off.

KELLY: What are you after? Got a porn tape to cram on?

GARRISON (enters, closes door): You’re edgy. Schoolgirl secrets?

He reaches for console switch. Kelly grabs his hand.

KELLY: Why don’t you go torture stray cats? I’m working.

GARRISON: You’re all work and no play lately.

He fondles some videotapes. Kelly takes them from him.

GARRISON: It’s not good to have secrets. Makes people nervous.

KELY: I don’t’ want to know your secrets. I’m sure they’re disgusting.

Garrison looks at videotape titles.

GARRISON: Bible spectacles. Historical epics. Term-paper stuff?

KELLY: Yeah, I’m doing the Golden Age of Movies. Tame enough for you?

GARRISON: Be careful not to reveal any secret history you can’t quote any published references for.

Kelly sneers at him and clicks a switch. On all the screens, a romantic dance sequence like Fred Astaire and Cyd Charisse “dancing in the dark” comes on all console screens.

KELLY: What about harmless Hollywood gossip?

Kelly takes Garrison’s hands from her tapes. She places his hands on her breasts. He gasps. She smiles.

GARRISON: You could have been Marilyn Monroe.

KELLY: (with a tempting smile) Well, you could have been Clark Gable any day.

GARRISON: Frankly, Scarlett, I do give a damn.

Kelly kisses Garrison as dancers swirl in background.

KELLY: Now go away and let a girl work.

GARRISON: It’s hard…

Kelly gives him a disdainful look for his pun.

GARRISON: …but I must pull myself away. You gonna be here for a while?

KELLY: A couple of hours.

GARRISON: Good. You can’t cause any trouble as long as you’re kept in the dark.

Garrison takes his hands from Kelly’s breasts, makes a “military turn,” and exits.

Kelly, more shaken by the kiss than she’d like, sighs and returns to the console. She punches some buttons. The dancers disappear to be replaced by war, disaster, saints burning at stakes.

INT. HALLWAY – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Garrison exits editing room with lipstick on his face. Several history class members stand waiting for him. He gives them a high sign, “Everything’s all right.” Most disperse. Two girls remain. He heads down hall. They follow behind him.

Garrison wipes Kelly’s lipstick from his mouth as he walks purposefully down the hall.

INT. CONNIE’S OFFICE – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Connie is reading a book on “Teenage Suicide.” KNOCK at her door. She looks up.

CONNIE: Yes?

INT. HALLWAY OUTSIDE CONNIE’S OFFICE – DAY –CONTINUOUS

Garrison and the two girls stand there.

GARRISON: It’s Garrison, Ms. Escher.

OFFICE

CONNIE: Oh. Come in, Garrison.

HALLWAY

Garrison waves the two girls to step aside. He opens the door.

OFFICE

Garrison enters and stands watching her for a beat, then speaks:

GARRISON: Ms. Escher?

CONNIE: Hello, Garrison. You’ve caught me at a difficult time….

GARRISON: I’m sorry. It’s just – there’s something on my mind, and you said we could talk to you.

CONNIE: Of course. Come in.

GARRISON: If you’re too busy for me…

CONNIE: Never too busy for you – for any of you. Garrison.

GARRISON: (he sits) That’s what I thought. You’re sympathetic. I knew you were the one.

CONNIE: I hope I can help.

GARRISON: There’s a kid I’m worried about.

CONNIE: Kelly?

GARRISON: Oh, no, you fixed Kelly up just swell. Look at the way she’s working in class now. No, there’s nothing wrong with Kelly – it’s Floyd Carter.

CONNIE: (reaching for files) Floyd Carter?

GARRISON: He’s not in any of your classes. I don’t think.

CONNIE: No. No, I don’t have him.

GARRISON: That’s what I thought. See, he’s in my Music Appreciation Class with Doctor Simms.

CONNIE: Yes?

GARRISON: And, well, he’s been acting awful funny.

CONNIE: In what way?

GARRISON: Well, he’s moody and nervous and he says weird things.

CONNIE: Have you recommended that he go to the school psychiatrist?

GARRISON: Gee, I tried, but, well, when you say anything like that to him, he gets awful spooky.

CONNIE: Do you mean, “afraid,” “paranoid?”

GARRISON: I don’t know. I’m just a kid. And he’s not part of – of the bunch I pal around with. But a lot of kids have noticed it.

CONNIE: I don’t know the boy at all. Perhaps I should talk with his parents?

GARRISON: Would you? That’d be great. But will you promise me…

CONNIE: Promise you what, Garrison?

GARRISON: See, you know, the guys all tease any guy that gets nosy or acts, you know…

CONNIE: Sensitive? Vulnerable?

GARRISON: That’s it.

CONNIE: Even among you sophisticated, high I.Q. types?

GARRISON: I guess kids are all the same, huh?

CONNIE: What was it you wanted me to promise, Garrison?

GARRISON: Please don’t tell anybody it was me who told you. Please? It would ruin me. And I’m hoping to be voted Class President.

CONNIE: Of course. I’m proud that you trust me.

GARRISON: I knew you would be. You’re the greatest, Ms. Escher. I knew I could count on you to do everything right. You won’t tell, then?

CONNIE: No, I can’t see that there would be any need for me to. Whether the boy turns out to need help or not.

GARRISON: You know, when you say that, it makes me feel I really can trust adults.

CONNIE: Garrison – don’t you feel you can trust your parents?

GARRISON: Oh, no, I never meant anything like that. My folks are sensational. couldn’t ask for better. Hey, they’re —

CONNIE: Perfect?

GARRISON: Well, that’s how they seem to me. But what would I know? I’m just a kid. You promise?

CONNIE: I promise, Garrison.

GARRISON: Cross your heart and hope to die?

CONNIE: I promised, Garrison.

GARRISON: I believe in you.

Garrison rises and exits.

Connie looks after him thoughtfully. Then she turns to her computer and punches up a file, “Carter, Floyd.”

ANGLE ON SCREEN

WE SEE his file on the screen, including a good, clear head-shot of a pleasant, average boy.

EXT, HALLWAY – DAY –CONTINUOUS

Outside Connie’s office. The two girls wait. Garrison silently shushes them. He presses his ear to the door.

INT. CONNIE’S OFFICE – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Connie intent on computer monitor screen.

ANGLE ON COMPUTER SCREEN

Floyd’s records. The cursor moves down a line of TEACHER’S COMMENTS.

“Good boy.” “Upper-middle class.” “Interest in music.” “High-B average.” “No unusual childhood diseases.” “No record of behavioral problems.” “No citations for tardiness.” “No unusual absences.”

ANGLE ON CONNIE

She silently mouths, “No, no, no. no.”

EXT. HALLWAY-DAY-CONTINUOUS

Garrison signals the two girls. They move closer to the door. Their shadows fall on the clouded-glass panel.

INT. CONNIE’S OFFICE – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Connie at computer. WE HEAR with her:

GIRL ONE: (O. S.) I just feel so bad about Floyd.

CONNIE’S POV

WE SEE the girls’ SHADOWS on the door..

GIRL TWO: (O. S.) He was always so nice before.

GIRL ONE (O. S.) I just can’t understand the change in him.

GIRL TWO: (O. S.) And such a sudden change, too.

GIRL ONE: (O. S.) It makes me sad.

GIRL TWO: (O.S.) And it’s so inexplicable…

Connie rises and goes to the door, opens it just as A BELL RINGS.

EXT. HALLWAY – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Connie opens the door.

CONNIE’S POV

of the hallway, full of scurrying student forms.

Connie just stands there for a beat.

CUT TO:

EXT. COURTYARD – (THE NEXT) DAY

CLOSE ON

FLOYD CARTER. WE PULL BACK slightly. He is sitting studying. Other figures in school uniforms start to move INTO FRAME.

Connie enters the courtyard and sees Floyd.

CONNIE’S POV

Several students, all members of the History Class, including Garrison, but not including Kelly, approach Floyd in the friendliest way, slapping him on the back chummily, offering him an apple, showing him a book, etc..

CLOSE ON

Garrison, all smiles and friendliness, talking closely with Floyd.

Floyd leaps up and runs away, past Connie. The History Class stand where they were, all expressing wonderment, bewilderment, hurt. One girl sits and cries. Another comforts her. One boy walks away in exasperation, Garrison trying to argue with him. Garrison turns and sees Connie, and shrugs regretfully.

Connie stands there, musing to herself, a look of resolve forming on her face.

CUT TO:

INT. MUSIC ROOM – DAY

Connie is talking with DOCTOR SIMMS, music professor, older.

DOCTOR SIMMS: Floyd Carter? Oh, I never had any trouble with him. Well, until just lately.

CONNIE: What kind of trouble, Doctor Simms?

DOCTOR SIMMS: Well, nothing really, but it was just unusual. He didn’t turn in his homework.

CONNIE: Is that all?

DOCTOR SIMMS: But he got so angry. He swore somebody had stolen it. That isn’t like him.

CUT TO:

INT. GYM – (LATER THAT) DAY

Connie is talking with COACH, grizzled.

COACH: I was wondering the same thing myself. He got in a fight in gym- class. Said they wouldn’t leave him alone,

CONNIE: Who wouldn’t?

COACH: Bunch of my best boys. Never have any trouble with those boys. No razzing, no bullying. Perfect kids. They said they just tried to choose him for their team. He broke out crying. Floyd’s no champion, but he’s no sissy. (a beat) It’s not like him.

CUT TO:

INT. SCIENCE ROOM – (LATER THAT) DAY

Connie is talking with SCIENCE TEACHER, a distracted type.

SCIENCE TEACHER: Well, I wouldn’t want to spread gossip about such a nice, normal boy.

CONNIE: Please, anything would be helpful.

SCIENCE TEACHER: I never had any trouble with him, you understand, I pride myself on never allowing trouble with any of my pupils.

CONNIE: Yes, of course, you should pride yourself on that. But, you said — something recently?

SCIENCE TEACHER: Well, not me, directly, but one of the girls asked to be seated elsewhere because she said Floyd was whispering – obscene things to her. I didn’t know what to do, so I moved her and put a boy there. Is something wrong?

CONNIE: I don’t know.

CUT TO:

INT. SCHOOL PSYCHIATRIST’S OFFICE – (LATER THAT) DAY

Connie talks the well-upholstered school PSYCHIATRIST.

PSYCHIATRIST: He’s very upset. He seems to think the whole school is persecuting him.

CONNIE: What does he think he’s being persecuted for?

PSYCHIATRIST: He won’t say. Of course. He just seems to think everyone’s turned against him. It’s in the normal range. Perfectly normal. Do you think I should notify his parents?

CONNIE: It’s not my place to suggest that. You’re the authority. All I know is history. (a beat) Yes, yes, doctor, I do.

EXT. MACRO SCHOOL – (THE NEXT) DAY – ESTABLISHING

The grounds are mostly still, only a few students coming and going; class is in session.

INT. CONNIE’S OFFICE – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Connie is at her desk, one hand holding Floyd Carter’s file, the other the photograph of her and Lee. She shoves both aside and leans back in her chair.

A small couple, MR. and MRS. CARTER, in their forties, step shyly into the office.

MRS. CARTER: Miss Escher?

CONNIE: Yes?

MRS. CARTER: We’re Floyd Carter’s parents.

CONNIE: (rises) Oh, I’m so pleased to meet you. I’ve been debating whether to call you.

She gestures and the Carters sit. Connie sits on her desk.

MRS. CARTER: We understand you’ve taken a special interest in Floyd’s case.

CONNIE: Case? (a beat) I don’t know that it’s a “case.”

MRS. CARTER: Miss Escher, until now Floyd’s never been a bit of trouble. He’s so bright, and so healthy, and he always seemed so positive and forward- looking. We consider ourselves blessed to have a gifted child and we read all the books on how to handle him.

MR. CARTER: (with humor) Hell, he read all the books on how to handle him!

MRS. CARTER: And even though we’re not as rich or as socially-connected as the other parents here, we wanted to do the right thing —

MR. CARTER: But we never bullied him.

MRS. CARTER: We never had to.

MR. CARTER: Studying was always his greatest joy.

MRS. CARTER: And he won his scholarship here.

MR. CARTER: And he’s been tops in everything.

MRS. CARTER: Or very nearly.

MR. CARTER: Hell, near the top here is the top anywhere else. We never drove him.

MRS. CARTER: And he’s been so happy.

MR. CARTER: And we were proud, I don’t deny it.

CONNIE: You should be. You should be.

MRS. CARTER: And now it’s all of a sudden like he’s gone crazy –

MR. CARTER: Don’t, Becky.

MRS. CARTER: I don’t know what else to call it. The school psychologist says it’s not our fault —

CONNIE: No, no, I’m sure it’s not.

MR. CARTER: But Floyd doesn’t want to come to school.

MRS. CARTER: It’s like he’s gone crazy.

Mr. Carter comforts Mrs. Carter. She contains herself and speaks again:

MRS. CARTER: And the school Psychiatrist said you had been concerned about him.

MR. CARTER: Becky thought you might be able to help us understand.

CONNIE: Mr. Carter, Mrs. Carter. I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know your son.

MRS. CARTER: But they said you had been responsible for discovering how bad off he is?

MR. CARTER: You must have noticed something?

Suddenly, Floyd appears, clearly distraught, but not wild.

FLOYD: Mom! Dad! What are you doing here?

MRS. CARTER: Floyd, darling.

The Science Teacher enters; clearly Floyd got away from him.

FLOYD: (to Connie) Did you call them here? Are you behind this?

MR. CARTER: Floyd! Manners!

FLOYD: (indicating Science Teacher) He took me out of class. To the principal. He found out you were here. (of Connie) Why are you seeing her? What’s going on?

CONNIE: Floyd, I’m Connie Escher. Please…

FLOYD: I don’t know you! I never did anything to you! I never did anything to anyone! Why are you doing this?!

The adults stand paralyzed. Floyd turns and flees past the Science Teacher.

The Carters run after him, shouting:

MRS. CARTER: Floyd, baby, come back!

MR. CARTER: Floyd! Stop this! Wait!

CONNIE: (to Science Teacher) What happened?

SCIENCE TEACHER: I had to take him to the Principal. I had to. You know I told you I had to move Kelly because he insulted her?

CONNIE: No, I didn’t know it was – yes, you told me.

SCIENCE TEACHER: Well, today I had to move Garrison, because Floyd insulted him – the same way!

Mrs. Carter appears in the doorway, crying. Connie comforts her. OFF SCREEN WE HEAR:

MR. CARTER: (O. S.) Floyd, what’s wrong with you? Nobody is trying to hurt you!

FLOYD: Why have you all turned against me? Why doesn’t anyone believe me?

A BELL RINGS.

MRS. CARTER: Oh, please, please, what’s happened to my boy?

Students pour past Connie’s door. Garrison pokes his head in.

He and Connie exchange a look, then Garrison runs with the crowd to see the ruckus between Floyd and Mr. Carter.

INT. HALLWAY – DAY – CONTINUOUS

Some Students are racing past the ruckus without a glance, but most are standing watching.

Mr. Carter is trying to restrain Floyd, who is fighting him frantically.

FLOYD: Let go! Let go of me! All of you go away! Go away! What are you all trying to do to me? Leave me alone! Just leave me alone! –

The School Psychiatrist shoves through the crowd and helps Mr. Carter to drag Floyd away.

FLOYD: You’re treating me like I’m crazy! How did they get you to do this to me? Where are you taking me? What have I done? What are you going to do to me?

The History Class stands more or less together in the mob. Teachers come through, dispersing the crowd.

TEACHERS: (variously) All right. Move on. Please. Get to your class. We don’t gawk at Macro.

Connie watches from her door, still holding Mrs. Carter. Science Teacher joins the Teachers dispersing the crowd.

The History Class disperses itself, every one in it moving in a different direction.

Connie embraces the wailing Mrs. Carter.

EXT. CONNIE’S HOME – NIGHT

CLASSICAL MUSIC faintly heard.

INT. CONNIE’S HOME – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

The inside is as simple and tasteful as the outside.

All around is evidence of Connie love for history, from prints to well-used books.

Classical MUSIC drifts gently around from the stereo.

Connie, dressed comfortably, sits in an over-stuffed chair, sipping a glass of wine and going over Floyd’s files for the hundredth time.

Frustrated and bleary-eyed, Connie tosses the file aside.

She stands and crosses to the open kitchen counter and pours herself more wine.

She starts back for her chair, but pauses at the stereo.

She reaches down and changes the station from the classical to a

COUNTRY WESTERN station.

The sad strains of a bluesy country western song begin —

COUNTRY-WESTERN SINGER (ON RADIO)

“Don’t know who hurt you.

I know it wasn’t me.

I long to see us livin’ happily.

I’m takin’ the fall

For someone else’s shadow on the wall.”.

Connie takes a sip of wine, sits back and melts into her overstuffed chair. She shuts her eyes.

Now the MUSIC COMES UP more, along with other SOUNDS, the SOUNDS of a CROWDED BAR —

— AS WE:

DISSOLVE TO:

FLASHBACK

INT. MID WEST COLLEGE DIVE – NIGHT

A COUNTRY WESTERN SINGER continues the SONG from the previous scene. The words: “FOURTEEN YEARS EARLIER” COME UP on SCREEN.

COUNTRY WESTERN SINGER

“Somebody hurt you,

And here’s the consequence:

You’ve punished everyone that’s loved you since

In total recall

Of someone else’s shadow on the wall.

I do somethin’ small

That makes you recall

The pain of it all.

Love, what can I do?”.

A country western bar catering to college students. The crowd is young and raucous — beer drinkers, mostly couples.

COUNTRY WESTERN SINGER:

“Someday you’ll hurt me,

And then you’ll set me free

To hurt someone the way that you’ve hurt me.

We’re just one and all

Just someone else’s shadow on the wall.”

Connie, fourteen years younger, sits at a table with LEE. They are enjoying a cognac as they listen to the sad song.

COUNTRY WESTERN SINGER:

It’s hard to recall

We’re not here at all.
We’re all just someone else’s shadow on the wall.”

The crowd applauds. The singer goes into another song.

CONNIE: Is life really going to be that sad?

LEE: Not with you, little one.

He kisses her.

CUT TO:

EXT. COLLEGE CAMPUS – DAY – WEEKS LATER

An average mid-west college campus.

Connie, wearing a biking helmet, sits waiting on her bike. She sees Lee approaching, similarly attired, on another bicycle, smiling.

She pushes off and rides in place beside him.

EXT. A COUNTRY ROAD – LATER

Connie and Lee pedal joyously on a road through farmland.

EXT. A FOREST GROVE DAY – A LITTLE LATER

Connie and Lee are happily tearing off each other’s clothes in a secluded, shady glen, their bikes leaning against each other.

CONNIE: I going to teach in the slums in the big city. I’m going to discover under-privileged geniuses. I’m going to be the Mother Teresa of American education.

LEE: I’m going to treat troubled children.

CONNIE: Were you a troubled child?

LEE: I had nightmares.

They’ve torn everything off but their helmets. They kiss and make love in their helmets.

CUT TO:

INT. A DORM ROOM – NIGHT – LATER

Lee’s dorm room. Connie and Lee lie asleep in one bed, cuddled after making love. Lee begins to groan, toss, whimper. Connie wakes.

CONNIE: Lee? Darling?

Lee sits up in bed with a SHOUT, striking out at Connie.

CONNIE: Lee, Lee!

Though still in panic, Lee realizes where he is and clutches her to him.

CONNIE: There, there, there. . .Baby.

At the word “baby,” Lee shoves her away, his face a mask of horror.

LEE: No, no.

He rises and jams his pants on and leaves, carrying his other clothes.

CONNIE: Lee, Lee!

CUT TO:

INT. THE DORM ROOM – DAY – THE NEXT MORNING

Connie sits on the edge of the bed, disconsolate. The door opens, Lee comes in. He looks a wreck.

LEE: Teach me history.

Connie rises and they fall into one another’s arms. He disengages and picks up a book.

LEE: Teach me.

Through her tears, Connie smiles and opens the book as they sit side-by-side on the bed.

CUT TO:

EXT COLLEGE CAMPUS – DAY – LATER

Connie and Lee sit on the grass, in the midst of an argument.

LEE: You’re a fool to waste yourself in the slums.

CONNIE: Rut that’s where help is needed.

LEE: Help? No one can help. Don’t you understand? (gazes at her) No, you don’t – do you?

CONNIE: No. No I don’t.

LEE: Quiz kid. Whiz kid, youngest kid in college. Never had a rough life in your life.

CONNIE: I resent that. You know I came from a dirt farm, I’ve worked for what I’ve got. And I mean to make it easier for other deprived kids.

LEE: You don’t know anything about kids. I hate kids. I would never bring a kid into a life like this.

CONNIE: (after silence) We’re going to.

LEE: (after rising) No. No we’re not. I won’t. No.

Lee flees across the campus.

WE HOLD on Connie’s expression AS WE:

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. METRO SLUM SCHOOL – CLASSROOM – DAY – YEARS LATER

A neglected dirty room with broken windows, desks, and blackboard. From outside WE HEAR the SOUNDS of an undisciplined school yard and a noisy city street.

Lee and Connie, years older, are arguing.

LEE: Drugs, vandalism, rape, murder, haven’t you seen the light yet?

CONNIE: Lee, we’re needed here. These children are tortured, terrified. What will happen to them if we don’t help?

LEE: The same thing over and over. (a beat) They’ll die.

CONNIE: We killed our child before it was born. We can’t desert these children. No matter how hopeless it seems.

LEE: Connie, ask yourself why, with all the history we know, why does humanity keep repeating the same patterns, like dumb animals? With all our science, why is half the world hungry? With all the horror, why do people keep breeding? Why don’t more people kill themselves?

CONNIE: I don’t know. I’ve never known.

LEE: You never will.

CONNIE: But we can’t just walk out,

LEE: (going to door) I can. And you will too.

Lee exits.

CUT TO:

EXT. SLUM SCHOOL – PLAYGROUND – DAY – LATER

A horrible area of cracked concrete with a mangled cyclone fence and broken basket ball goals. Connie kneels with the broken, bleeding body of a BLACK CHILD across her lap, screaming:

CONNIE: Why? Why did you all kill him? He was the best, the brightest, why did you hate him? Why? Why? Why?

SLOW MOTION

as Connie’s CRIES reverberate, WE SEE a battered sedan, carrying a group of GANG KIDS.

As the car glides dreamlike toward us, a glint of metal is distinguishable, emerging from the passenger window. Now it’s all too clear as the gun comes up. Just beyond the barrel are the cold, lifeless eyes of the gunman, then – BLAMM!

Connie screams as the shot hits near her. She drags the body with her as she seeks shelter. SHOTS continue, mixed with sounds of YOUNG MALE LAUGHTER.

The car circles the playground, shots firing, hitting a window, a basketball hoop, a garbage can, as

Connie, wailing, drags the body behind her to a doorway. It’s a nightmare.

CUT TO:

INT. SLUM SCHOOL – OFFICE – DAY

Connie is talking with a sad, wise BLACK WOMAN:

BLACK WOMAN: Connie, you have to follow your own conscience…but you know how you’re needed here.

CONNIE: I can’t. Don’t hate me. I can’t take it anymore. I have to go somewhere where things like this can never happen to children.

END FLASHBACK

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. CONNIE’S HOME – NIGHT – PRESENT

Connie sits up with a start, spilling wine all over herself. She is breathing hard, reliving the terrible moment.

INT. THE CARTER HOME – FLOYD’S ROOM – NIGHT

A more modest home than the Hartley’s. Floyd sits in his tidy room at his tidy desk, reading. This is a quiet house, considering a teenager lives here.

Mrs. Carter,. in her nightgown, pokes her head in the door.

MRS. CARTER: Floyd, honey?

Floyd looks up from his reading.

MRS. CARTER: Daddy and I are going to go to bed now, sweetie. Is there anything you need?

FLOYD: No, mom.

MRS. CARTER: Goodnight, honey.

She starts to retreat, Floyd stops her with:

FLOYD: Mom?

MRS. CARTER: Yes, honey?

He looks at her with affection; an affection that is compounded by her obvious concern.

FLOYD: Nothing. Goodnight.

Mrs. Carter retreats. Floyd goes back to his reading. He looks up at a SOUND, quick, light footsteps in the hall. He listens for a beat, nothing, then goes back to his book.

Again, the quick, light steps. Floyd, tense, rises and moves to the bedroom door. He looks out into the hall –

FLOYD’S POV

nothing in hall, but down at the other end he can see into his parents’ bedroom. His father is already in bed and his mother is closing the door as she turns to join the father.

BACK TO

Floyd goes back into his room. He sits on the edge of the bed, questioning his senses. He looks around.

FLOYD’S POV

A ladder at his window.

Floyd is shocked.

Suddenly:

VOICES: (whispering, from nowhere) Floyd! Floyd! Hey, zero!

Floyd springs up from the bed, terrified. He looks back at the window.

FLOYD’S POV

The window—the ladder is gone..

Floyd races to the window, which is open, he strains looking out into the pitch night.

FLOYD’S POV

Below, bushes rattle.

SCURRYING SOUNDS behind Floyd. He whirls back around and gasps — His chair is now on top of the desk. He crosses to the desk and looks down, horrified — the book he was reading has been torn clean in half.

The VOICES come again, this time tittering, gleeful LAUGHTER. Floyd spins around, trying to pinpoint the source of the phantom voices.

VOICES: Hey, Floyd! Floydfloydfloyd.

His breath comes in fast, hyper spurts. His eyes are wide. He wants to scream. Then, right behind him, in a clear, flat tone:

GARRISON (O. S.) Floyd.

Floyd nearly hits the ceiling. He turns and there’s the grinning, icy Garrison standing there.

GARRISON: Hi ya, zero.

INT. THE CARTER HOME – PARENTS’ ROOM – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Mr. and Mrs. Carter lie in bed. OFF SCREEN a LOUD CRASH. They both sit up, Mr. Carter going for his bed side lamp.

MRS. CARTER: Oh, no…

INT. THE CARTER HOME – HALL/STAIRS – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Mr. Carter comes tearing out of his bedroom, and – wham! Runs right into a wild-eyed Floyd.

MR. CARTER: Jesus God, Floyd! What’s going on?

Floyd pulls free of his father.

FLOYD: Let me go! Please! They’re here! They’re going to kill me!

Floyd tries to flee, but Mr. Carter detains him.

MR. CARTER: Nobody’s here, Floyd! Nobody’s going to hurt you!

FLOYD: Dad! Let me go! You have to let me go!

MR. CARTER: No! Now, damn it, son, this nonsense has got to stop!

Mrs. Cater, a hand covering her mouth appears behind Mr. Carter.

MRS. CARTER: Floyd, honey, we want to help you…

Suddenly, Floyd rears back and – SMASH! – catches his father with a surprise right cross.

Mr. Carter, more stunned than damaged, draws back. Floyd tears off down the stairs.

Mrs. Carter reaches out to her husband, at the same time calling:

MRS. CARTER: Floyd, honey! Come back!

OFF SCREEN the SOUND of the front door slamming shut.

Mr. Carter gathers himself and takes off after Floyd. Mrs.

Carter is left reeling.

EXT. THE CARTER HOME – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Mr. Carter comes flying out of the front door just in time to see his car tearing out of the driveway, a mad-eyed Floyd behind the wheel. Mr. Carter stands on the lawn, helpless, as Floyd speeds away, driving like a drunken man.

Mrs. Carter emerges from the house.

MR. CARTER: Becky, call the police…

EXT. DESERTED HIGHWAY – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Floyd drives like a bat out of hell, terrified and glassy-eyed. HEADLIGHTS in his rearview mirror, getting closer. Floyd pounds the gas — so does the car behind him.

Suddenly, the car behind him explodes with COLORED LIGHT — it’s a police car. Floyd sighs, relieved.

COP: (V.O.) (amplified) Pull over to the side of the road!

Floyd considers what to do. He veers over to the shoulder, slowing. Finally he comes to a stop. He sits there, waiting to be arrested, ticketed, saved.

Footsteps and a dark figure approaching him. Floyd manages a smile, feeling a little stupid now that he’s safe. He turns to the cop —

— Garrison appears at his window.

GARRISON: Hey, zero.

Floyd starts and looks behind himself –

— the car that sits there is not a police car. A detachable police light spins on the top of the car.

Panicked, Floyd goes for the ignition switch. Garrison reaches into the window. They struggle. Floyd manages to get the car started. He starts to pull away.

Garrison manages to pull free of the car. He runs back to the other car, where members of the history class wait, looking like a car load of cruising teenagers. Garrison is laughing as he slams back into the car. They take off after Floyd.

EXT. DESERTED ROAD – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Floyd drives. The HEADLIGHTS in his rearview reflect onto his straining face.

The cars race down the deserted road. Garrison roars forward, smashing into Floyd’s car once, twice and again.

Garrison tries to veer around and pass Floyd, but Floyd manages to block him, staying one step ahead of the game.

Garrison manages to squeeze beside Floyd.

SPARKS and SCRAPING as the two cars graze up against each other.

The History Class hang out of Garrison’s car, HOOTING and LAUGHING, calling Floyd’s name and ‘zero’.

Garrison cranks the wheel hard — WHAM!

Floyd tries desperately to keep control. Again Garrison swipes up against Floyd’s car — WHAM!

Floyd loses control of the car. Be looks to his right —

— a sheer drop off a cliff.

FLOYD’S POV

as the edge of the road just disappears. The cavernous pit of rock and night looms. Floyd’s SCREAM ECHOES AS WE:

CUT TO:

INT. CONNIE’S OFFICE – (THE NEXT) DAY

CLOSE ON

A NEWSPAPER HEADLINE: “CURSE OF MACRO. STUDENT SUICIDE !”

A RAP at the door.

The newspaper lowers and from Connie’s POV WE SEE Garrison, looking scared to death, standing in the doorway.

Connie puts the paper down.

GARRISON: Ms. Escher.

CONNIE: Garrison. Have you heard?

Garrison enters, and closing door, sits.

GARRISON: Ms. Escher, I don’t know what to do.

CONNIE: Do you want me to call the nurse?

GARRISON: No. Please. I just had to talk to somebody. You know last night?

CONNIE: What about last night?

GARRISON: Last night Floyd came to my house. And he gave me all his syllabus records. He said he was sorry he’d been mean to me and that he was trying to make up for it. I thought that meant he was all right. And then he went and did this. Should I have known? Should I have called someone?

CONNIE: No. No, Garrison. You couldn’t have known. How could you? None of us could have known.

GARRISON: And a lot of the other kids say he did the same thing with them. Came by and gave away all his stuff. They all thought he was fine, too. Should we tell?

CONNIE: I’m sure there’ll be an investigation. You just tell the police what you told me.

GARRISON: It’s such a mystery. Isn’t it?

CONNIE: Yes, Garrison.

He nods somberly, then exits. Connie just stares at the empty doorway.

CONNIE: (to herself) A perfect mystery…

INT. THE PSYCHIATRIST’S OFFICE – (LATER THAT) DAY

The Psychiatrist is talking to Connie.

PSYCHIATRIST: It’s a classic case. Young man in early adolescence becomes despondent, paranoid, violent. Gives away all his possessions. It’s a textbook case – a perfect textbook case.

Connie winces at the words.

INT. THE MACRO SCHOOL – ASSEMBLY HALL – DAY

The assembly hall holds the whole student body. There is a stage where the PRINCIPAL stands, an elderly man of no real distinction, at a lectern draped in black. Behind him on easels are large photos of Jennifer Hartley, Corey, and Floyd.

In the packed house, Connie sits in a row with students, just behind Kelly and Garrison and some others of the History Class.

PRINCIPAL: I know that any of you students or faculty who saw a student in trouble would inform the proper authorities. I know that is the sort of people we are here at Macro. But we all know that the signs of this kind of trouble are often so small and misleading. Little things. Little things no one could know. No one is in blame. No one at Macro is responsible. A troubled soul has gone to its reward. A sweet and troubled soul.

ANGLE FAVORING

Garrison and Kelly and friends. Connie behind them.

At the second mention of the.word ‘soul,’ Garrison cannot stifle a laugh. He puts his hands over his mouth. Kelly, worried, shoves her elbow in his ribs, but it doesn’t help. He is bent over almost double, his shoulders heaving with suppressed merriment. His friends look worried.

As the Principal finishes speaking, ORGAN MUSIC begins, softly at first, while we are on an —

ANGLE BEHIND GARRISON: favoring Connie.

She sees his heaving shoulders and her face fills with pity. She reaches instinctively to touch his shoulder.

Garrison turns.

TIGHT ON GARRISON: his eyes dry, his face distorted with a hideous grin. Kelly turns, too.

CLOSE ON CONNIE: shocked.

CLOSE ON KELLY: turning her worried stare from Connie to turn Garrison back around.

KELLY: It’s all right, Garrison. There’s nothing unmanly about crying.

A BOY BESIDE GARRISON: (a worried look at Connie) Right. You just let go, Gare.

CLOSE ON GARRISON: as he takes a last look at Connie. His eye is bone-dry. He keeps turning, now the back of his head is to us.

Kelly and Connie keep looking at each other. The other members of the History Class take special notice of this. Connie and Kelly notice the heads turning their way and staring.

ORGAN MUSIC grows louder and more menacing as the camera, centered on Connie, pulls slowly up and away to reveal —

— the whole crowd, with Connie and Kelly in the center, the focus of all the eyes in History Class, a woman and girl in danger — but from what?

FADE OUT.

FADE IN:

EXT. ANOTHER TOWN – LEE’S HOME – NIGHT

A sign on the door reads: “LEE SUMMIT, PSYCHIATRIC COUNSELOR.”

Connie’s hand knocks on the door.

LEE (O. S.) Who is it?

CONNIE: I’m nobody. Who are you?

The door opens on the face of Lee, older but still handsome and warm, though he does not look happy to see her.

LEE: Come in, little one.

CUT TO:

INT. LEE’S HOME – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Lee’s home is warm, full of comfortable furniture, real wood, teal fabrics, and shelves of much-used books. There is a fire going in the fireplace. Lee stands holding the door. Connie, her coat buttoned to the collar, stands, not knowing what to do.

Lee glances outside, closes the door, comes behind her, reaches around and unbuttons her coat, takes it from her. She still continues to stand as if cold.

LEE: (disposing of coat) You’ve changed your hair.

She walks farther into the room, away from him.

LEE: You’ve changed your manner, too. (walking to sideboard-bar) Have you changed your drink?

CONNIE: Cognac will do just fine.

Connie wanders around the familiar room while Lee pours cognac. She touches remembered objects, lets herself smile a bit. She touches a photo of her and him much younger.

CONNIE: Nothing has changed here.

LEE: (offering cognac) Nothing, Connie. Nothing ever will. (a beat) Well, maybe your reflexes. Once a line like that would have had you in my arms and me spilling cognac all over.

She falls into his arms, clutching him like a rock.

CONNIE: Oh, Lee.

LEE: (laughing, protecting drinks) I lost a lot of good cognac that way.

She disengages, takes a drink, sips, crying as if from relief.

LEE: Come on, sit down, little one.

He guides her to a soft rug before the fire.

CONNIE: Lee, I don’t know where to start.

LEE: Hush.

He reaches behind him and turns on an answering machine. In CONNIE’S VOICE, it says:

CONNIE: (V.O.) Lee? Lee, if you’re there, please pick up. Lee, it’s Connie. I know I promised not to phone, but Lee, this isn’t personal. It’s professional. (sobbing by now) Lee, I think I’m going crazy. I think I killed a child. I think children are going to kill me. Lee, I’m coming to Boston, I’m coming apart. Please be there.

LEE: I’m here.

She slips into his arms.

LEE: You shouldn’t be.

But he caresses her. It is clearly deeply painful for him.

LEE: This isn’t some projected political guilt, is it? You’re not taking responsibility for the starving millions of Asia? You’re not afraid the military-industrial complex is poisoning your health food?

CONNIE: (disengages, daubs eyes, with humor) No, Lee. I know we are all responsible for the masses, and I know industry is poisoning us all. It’s good of you to try to joke me around — (looks up with honest terror) — but I’m not joking.

LEE: Okay. Who did you kill, and who’s out to kill you?

CONNIE: I killed — I helped kill — a fourteen-year-old boy. And other fourteen-and-fifteen-year-olds may kill me.

LEE: I told you to stay out of secondary schools. You belong in primary schools. Or off writing history books. (a beat) Right here with me, writing history books. Teenagers would drive anyone crazy.

CONNIE: Lee, I’m serious.

LEE: You sure are, little one. You always were. That’s a dangerous thing to be. All right, sip your cognac. Tell the doctor all about it.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. LEE’S HOME – (LATER THAT) NIGHT

Lee is now sitting on the couch. Connie still sits on the rug, hugging her knees, finishing her story.

CONNIE: …and they sat there in the assembly, looking at me. Me and Kelly.

LEE: After the principal said something about the dead children’s souls.

CONNIE: Yes. And I swear, Lee, Garrison was laughing.

LEE: You’re so bright. I should never have been involved with a woman as bright as you. I never have been again.

CONNIE: Lee, what should I do?

LEE: You were never one to rely on authority. You always made up your own mind.

CONNIE: I’m bright enough to know that what I’m thinking can’t possibly be true. I’m bright enough to know when my own mind has gone out of control. I’m bright enough to recognize clinical paranoia when I experience it. I’m bright enough to seek help for it. But I’m not bright enough to stop it. I know what I saw! No other explanation makes sense!

LEE: Listen to me, Connie. Are you bright enough to get out of there, never to go back there, never to involve yourself with kids that age again?

CONNIE: Lee, if we’d had our child, it would have been that age now!

LEE: Connie, do you trust me?

CONNIE: I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.

LEE: All right. I hate to tell you this. You are in serious danger. But not from anyone else. What’s happening to you is exactly this: You are guilty because we didn’t have our child. You hate the happy bright children around you. You didn’t kill that boy; you only wanted to. Those children aren’t threatening you; you’re looking for an excuse to kill them. You do see that, don’t you?

CONNIE: I’d almost rather believe that. I’ve never experienced anything like this before.

LEE: No, little one, no. You’ve never experienced anything before. Now get out of here. Go directly home. Pack only the things you can’t live without. Get all your money you can get tonight. Leave the rest to rot. Go to another town, another state. Take a job under another name. Forget history. Forget teaching. Don’t make waves. Be a zero.

CONNIE: Lee, you’re telling me to disappear.

LEE: I’m just joking, little one. Cruel of me. But get out of there tonight. And never go back.

CONNIE: Lee, can I come here?

LEE: No. No, little one. It wouldn’t work any better this time. I’m telling you this to save you from – from madness. Get to another town. Start another life. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going. Don’t tell anyone where you came from.

CONNIE: I’ll write you.

LEE: No. Once you’re settled, call me and just leave a message that you’re all right. Call from a pay phone. I don’t want to know where you are. Don’t make me sit there again listening to you begging me to pick up the phone.

CONNIE: (getting her coat) Yes. I don’t understand. If I understood, I suppose I wouldn’t need to trust you. I’ll call you — once.

She is at the door, ready to go. She reaches for the door handle.

LEE: (stops her) Connie —

CONNIE: (hopefully) Yes?

LEE: Were you — did you have any delusion that you were followed here?

CONNIE: Followed? No.

LEE: You wouldn’t know it if you were. Goodbye, little one.

He kisses her forehead and opens the door.

EXT. LEE’S HOME – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Connie leaves and gets in her car and pulls away. Lee’s silhouette remains in the door.

LEE

Looks up and down at

THE STREET

Which is dark and silent.

LEE

Closes his door.

THE STREET

A car parked in the shadows revs up and follows Connie with its lights off.

EXT. CONNIE’S HOME – (LATER THAT) NIGHT

Connie’s car is parked in the driveway.

INT. CONNIE’S HOME – (LATER THAT) NIGHT

The living room. Connie, changed for travel, and toting bags, sets them with a small pile by the door.

She goes to a desk with a small empty bag and begins looking at papers; throwing some away, stuffing others in the bag. Her manner is icy and disciplined.

EXT. CONNIE’S HOME – CONTINUOUS

The car that followed Connie glides to the curb, stops.

ANGLE ON

The car’s door. It opens and feet in the familiar Macro uniform get out. Car door is closed silently.

FOLLOW

The feet up the walk to Connie’s door.

INSIDE

Connie stuffs the last papers into her briefcase and picks up a photo of her and Lee. She debates mentally whether to take it.

OUTSIDE

A hand, showing clearly the cuffs of the Macro blazer and shirt, knocks on Connie’s door.

INSIDE

At the SOUND of KNOCKING, Connie drops the picture and her bag and gasps. She didn’t know how scared she was. She stands terror-stricken as FOOTSEPS skitter away. She goes slowly to the door.

A large manila envelope is sticking from the door’s old- fashioned mail slot. Connie retrieves it. There is the sound of a CAR outside.

She flings open the door —

EXT. CONNIE’S HOME – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

CONNIE’S POV

of the peaceful residential street. An unidentifiable car speeds away and around a corner.

Connie closes the door.

INT. CONNIE’S HOME – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Connie leans against the door. Whatever is happening to her is getting worse. She raises a hand to wipe sweat from her brow, and sees the envelope in it. Understandably wary, she takes it to the desk. There is no writing on the outside. She carefully opens its clasp, and takes out –

CLOSE ON

a videotape, with a label that reads: “HISTORY TERM PAPER, SUBMITTED BY KELLY LINDSTROM.”

Connie laughs at her own paranoia. She sits on the desk, shakes off her tensions, hops up. Follow her as she walks into the kitchen resolutely, pours herself a drink, and returns to the living-room to pop the tape in her VHR, sit comfortably on some cushions on the floor, and turn the TV on with the remote.

KELLY’S TERM PAPER SEQUENCE

The term paper is read aloud in KELLY’S VOICE. Throughout, we INTERCUT and MONTAGE among:

(1) Kelly’s face, speaking the lines.

(2) Connie reacting to the material.

(3) Illustrations of the material, consisting of:

a. Familiar prints and paintings.

b. New animation.

c. Where possible, footage from newsreels, educational films, and old features bringing historical data to life.

KELLY’S VOICE

Hello, Ms. Escher. The period I have chosen to report on is — Eternity.

The night sky, filled with stars

In the beginning, there was nothing in the universe —

The stars disappear

Nothing — but a great single light of living consciousness.

The Godhead appears, a beautiful, luminous globe.

Then something happened to the universe, something scientists call the Big Bang.

Blackness, then an explosion of blinding light that spews out shimmering galaxies.

Suddenly there was matter in the universe. The Godhead was curious. It sent bits of itself out to explore matter.

Spermlike flecks of light shoot out of the Godhead. They dive through clouds to penetrate the raw matter of lifeless Earth.

And they created life.

Shots of single cells, amoebas, early plants and worms, fishes.

But the bits of the Godhead were trapped in the living things – until the living things died.

Shot of a fish gasping and dying on a beach. A fleck of Godhead light flies out of it and into space.

When an animal died, the bit of the Godhead in it could always return to the Godhead.

Streaks of light shoot through space and bury themselves in the Godhead.

But the Godhead felt sorry for the living things it had created. It chose to return again and again, to help life grow stronger and more conscious.

The Godhead. Streaks of light fly out from it. Others fly back to it. Animals evolve, ever larger, ever stronger.

Life was hard and ugly and cruel. But we could bear it, because we knew it would eventually become more intelligent – and because we could always return to the beautiful, peaceful, eternal Godhead.

Scenes of animal struggle between dinosaurs, then early mammals, and then later ones, climaxing in battling apes.

At last we thought we had succeeded. We developed human beings.

Apes develop into hominids, Neanderthals, and at last a tall, commanding true homo sapiens head.

But two mistakes had been made. First, the human beings still had too much of the animal in them —

Pull back from the proud human head to show that the true man holds a spear in one hand and the head of an enemy in the other.

– and the human brain had so much ego and imagination that it drowned out our memories of the Godhead. Everyone remembered the Godhead, but they remembered it in ways colored by their human ego and imagination.

Primitive gods of all cultures.

They depicted it in different ways. They remembered their desire to return to it, so they threw one another into flames —

Images of human sacrifice.

They fought over whose Godhead was the true one. They remembered the bliss and happiness of the Godhead and blamed each other because they had lost it. They enslaved one another in crazy schemes to reach it.

Hordes of slaves building pyramids, ziggurats, Stonehenge, temples, cathedrals.

The Godhead kept sending us back to help people learn –

The Godhead, emitting a steady stream of light aimed at the Earth.

We were born and reborn over and over again. We didn’t remember the Godhead anymore We only remembered the other lives we had lived already. We were born with all the fears and hatreds of our past lives still raging in us. Wars grew larger and larger.

Pictures of ancient battles, hideous slaughters.

The intelligence of the Godhead that was in us all was just used to make more and more horrible weapons, to conquer more territory, as every culture tried to force its distorted vision of reality on others.

Weapons: rocks become clubs become spears become bows and arrows become a whole line-up of developing guns become bombs, climaxing in an atomic bomb explosion

Human beings conquered so much territory, developed so much science and technology, that they became the most numerous mammal on Earth.

Cities: Caves become huts become towns become castles, climaxing in huge, crowded, smoggy, crowded modern cities.

More and more souls were needed.

The Godhead, becoming smaller and smaller as it spews out souls.

Finally there were so many people that all the Godhead had been used up.

The last twinkling bit of the Godhead dissolves, sending last bits of light out. Now there is nothing but the stars.

So when we died and went back out into space looking for the blessed peace and reassurance of the Godhead, we found nothing, nothing —

A soul flies from Earth and swims crazily about in empty space.

Souls were faced with only two options: Spin in space alone forever, or return over and over to horrible human life on Earth. A few remembered the Godhead and tried to remind people of it. They were always killed by the mobs —

Socrates, Christ, other martyrs.

Most just forgot it and lived empty meaningless lives, punishing each other for their hideous loneliness —

A mother beating her children; a fight in a bar; a concentration camp.

Some decided we would never escape and tried to make life better –

Inventors, including Leonardo da Vinci, the Wright Brothers, and Einstein.

But others who remembered decided to try to rule and make the world what they wanted it to be –

Caesar, Genghis Than, Napoleon, Hitler, Stalin, Mao.

And all this time, humanity kept increasing. At last there came a time when there are more people than there are souls!

Terrified close-up of Kelly, saying-

Most people now are born without souls!

Mobs, in teeming city streets, wandering as refugees, in riots in cities all over the world.

Life became soulless, art became soulless, politics became soulless. Cities turned back into jungles.

Shots of marching mobs, street conflicts with police, heavy metal rock bands, robberies,, murders, Andy Warhol paintings, violent movie posters, homeless beggars, newspaper and magazine headlines of war, war, war, newsreels of war, war, war

A few people with souls were lucky enough to be born rich and get educated.

Shots of Macro students, just groups, not individuals.

We remember the past. We remember the Godhead. We live among soulless mobs. Some of us want to help them. Some of us want to rule them. But all of us are afraid. We think there are evil insane old souls who’d punish us if they found us, but we don’t know.

We’re born into an insane world. We’re afraid we’re insane. We’re afraid to do good. We’re afraid to do evil. We’re afraid to be alone. We’re afraid to be discovered. We do horrible things —

Headlines of Macro student deaths.

And we don’t know if there’s anyone we can trust.

END INTERCUT AND MONTAGE

Connie sits on the floor, the remote in her hand, stunned.

CUT TO:

EXT. CITY STREET – (LATER THAT) NIGHT

Connie in her car, barreling along, driving with one hand while holding a list in the other.

CONNIE: (reading from list) Hardwick, Hartley, Henry, James, Knight, ah! Lindstrom!

She drags a city-map from glove-compartment, wrestles it open.

She stops to circle the Lindstrom home in lipstick on the map.

CONNIE’S POV

a store-window full of TV sets all showing some idiot sit-com.

Junkies staggering into traffic.

The Looney Hippie lecturing to indifferent passersby.

A movie-house marquee advertising “Horror Triple Bill.”

Headlines on papers; CLEAN AIR BILL DEFEATED.

A burning cross on a lawn.

EXT. KELLY’S HOUSE – NIGHT

A mansion. A limousine in the driveway. MR. AND MRS. LINDSTROM, well-dressed zeros, getting into it.

Connie pulls up and leaps out of her car to catch the Lindstroms.

CONNIE: Mrs. Lindstrom, forgive my bothering you.

MRS. LINDSTROM: You did startle me.

CONNIE: I’m Connie Escher. Kelly’s history teacher.

MRS. LINDSTROM: Why, yes, she loves you. You’ll forgive us, we’re off to a concert to save the Amazon rain forest.

CONNIE: Is Kelly in? It’s about her term-paper.

MRS. LINDSTROM: (to her husband) Dear, is Kelly in? Oh, I don’t think so. I believe she’s off to study with that wonderful Garrison Hardwick. Such a nice boy. I always know I can trust Kelly with him –

But Connie has dashed to her car to drive away.

EXT. CITY STREETS – NIGHT

Connie driving along, looking through her class-list f or Garrison’s address. On the map she circles Garrison’s home with a lipstick.

EXT. HARDWICK HOME – NIGHT

Connie at the door. A MAID opens it.

CONNIE: Are the Hardwicks in?

MAID: No, they ain’t in. Some political rally.

CONNIE: Is Garrison here? I’m his teacher.

MAID: No. I think Garrison off with his friend Tommy Carson.

CONNIE: (leafing through list) Tommy Carson. Thank you.

She walks away, already unfolding city map.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. CITY STREET – NIGHT

Connie in the front seat of her car with map on her lap and class-list in one hand, lipstick in the other, circling yet another student’s home. There are a half-dozen already circled and crossed-out.

EXT. A STUDENT’S HOUSE – NIGHT

Another mansion. Connie is at the door talking to MRS. FIEDLER, a matron dressed for dining-in formally.

MRS. FIEDLER: Well, actually, no, Cynthia is always busy evenings with her study-group.

CONNIE: Mrs. Fiedler, do you know where they meet? It could be important.

MRS. FIEDLER: Why, yes, at Tanya Larramie’s home. They always meet there.

CONNIE: Yes, I’m sure. Thank you.

MRS. FIEDLER: You’ll forgive me? We’re having a fund-raiser about ozone-depletion.

She closes the door.

EXT. LARRAMIE MANSION – NIGHT

MR. LARRAMIE at door, talking to Connie.

MR. LARRAMIE: Why, yes, of course; they all meet at the house of another student. (calls) Elsa, where is Tanya’s study-group?

ELSA: (O. S.) The Lindstrom home.

MR. LARRAMIE: Of course, yes, that’s right. At the Lindstrom home. With her friend

Kelly.

CONNIE: Of course.

EXT. CITY STREET – NIGHT

Connie sits in her car with the list and the map, crossing off the Larramie home. She crumples the list and discards it. She leans back and sighs. She looks down at the map.

CLOSE ON MAP

A dozen or so circled and canceled homes all form a semi-circle. In the exact focus of the semi-circle is –

— INDIAN CLIFFS.

EXT. INDIAN CLIFFS – NIGHT

A half-dozen expensive cars parked just outside it. A campfire in the center of the cup-shaped pit. Around the campfire, in flickering, ominous firelight, the whole History Class is present, for the first time seen out of the school uniform. They are normally-dressed for modern teenagers, but their clothes incorporate individual touches that suggest other times.

Only Kelly’s and Garrison’s speeches will be differentiated. The other students will simply be referred to as “A STUDENT.”

Garrison is more or less running the meeting. He stands in a commanding position. The others stand or sit around the campfire.

We are coming in on the middle of a concerted argument.

A STUDENT: All right! All right! I say it was a big mistake. All it’s done is cause more hassle.

GARRISON: And what do you suggest we do about it?

KELLY: Were going to stop it now.

GARRISON: Okay, everybody agree not to commit suicide, right? (indicates Kelly) Joan of Arc here orders none of us can get desperate or crazy.

A STUDENT: Easy to say.

KELLY: I’m not ordering anybody to do or not do anything. I’m just saying we have to look out for each other.

GARRISON: Spy on each other, you mean?

KELLY: No, there’s been too much of that!

GARRISON: What were you in your last life, a flower-child? What did you do, O.D. at a Love-In? Came back pretty fast, didn’t you? Maybe you’re an Old Soul!

EXT. CLIFFS – OUTSIDE THE RING OF ROCKS – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

Connie drives up, see the Students’ parked cars, turns off her lights, parks a distance from them, gets out, quietly closes her car door, tiptoes to a spot behind a standing rock and looks down on the meeting.

EXT. INDIAN CLIFFS – THE CAMPFIRE – NIGHT – CONTINUOUS

A STUDENT: That kind of talk is out of order.

A STUDENT: This whole meeting is out of order. If our parents find out we’re all gone at once —

GARRISON: Dream on! That bunch of zeros. We make ‘em rich with our stock tips, and run ‘em ragged with social service. They haven’t got a clue!

A STUDENT: They will if we kill anymore.

GARRISON: We didn’t kill anyone!

KELLY: Jennifer! Corey! Floyd!

GARRISON: Jennifer was ambitious. She was going to do her term-paper on a sixteenth century nun, full of stuff nobody knows about. She would have attracted attention. That wasn’t a killing, it was an execution! And Corey was backflashing on Nazi Germany!

A STUDENT: And Floyd was just a zero.

KELLY: You don’t know that!

A STUDENT: Then what was he?

A STUDENT: He wasn’t one of us!

A STUDENT: Garrison’s right. If some Old Soul read that stuff, they’d crash down on us.

A STUDENT: Nobody with souls reads history! The smart ones only read money-market newsletters.

A STUDENT: Or else they live in secret communes.

A STUDENT: We don’t know that!

A STUDENT: Oh, you think the hippies were all wise souls!

KELLY: They may have been. There must be some good, kind old souls. We can’t assume they’re all evil. If that’s so, what are we all going to be in a few more lives?

A STUDENT: I think Kelly has a point.

A STUDENT: Yes, there might be some kind old ones out there who could advise us.

GARRISON: The ones that aren’t sadistic dictators are all crazy serial- killers. Go find ‘em! You’ll wind up on a milk-carton!

A STUDENT: I don’t believe that’s necessarily true.

A STUDENT: Yes, why do we have to go crazy or evil? I think we can stay good.

A STUDENT: We could use our money to travel all over hunting for other lost souls.

GARRISON: Cheesh, what were you last time, an African missionary?

A STUDENT: Stop that! You can’t make people tell you what they were!

GARRISON: Only because you’re afraid we’ll fight our old fights all over again.

A STUDENT: That’s a good enough reason.

GARRISON: And what were you, a blessed peace maker? Bobby Kennedy or someone?

KELLY: Well, I think I know what you were! I think you were a Nazi and you were in such a rush to kill Corey because he was a Jew in one of your prison- camps!

A STUDENT: That’s a horrible thing to• say!

GARRISON: Hey, what if I was? It’s not our fault what we’re born as, then or now.

A STUDENT: Maybe it is. Maybe the Eastern religions are true. maybe we pick up bad karma in one life and pay for it in another.

A STUDENT: Maybe we should all go into religion.

KELLY: Yes, it’s our responsibility to make life better —

GARRISON: The best way to do that would be to kill all the sheep!

KELLY: Like you killed Floyd?

GARRISON: Like we all killed Floyd!

KELLY: Well, he’s the last one!

GARRISON: Oh, what’s all this static about killing? What difference does it make? We’re all coming back over and over. What difference does it make how long you live in any one particular life? Murder’s the one crime that doesn’t do any permanent harm!

A STUDENT: We can work out ways to prolong life.

A STUDENT: For what? To live in this stinking world?

KELLY: To make it better. To find new souls!

A STUDENT: Oh, Kelly.

A STUDENT: No, I think she might be right.

GARRISON: (to Kelly) You’re crazy!

A STUDENT: Never tell anyone that!

GARRISON: She is! That’s got to be crazy! There aren’t any new souls.

KELLY: I think there are! I think there can be! There are people that are kind and think for themselves and don’t seem to have any fear or grudge against the world. I think they’re new souls.

GARRISON: Like your precious Ms. Escher?

ANGLE ON

As Connie spies, she stiffens at the mention of her name,

KELLY: Don’t mention her!

A STUDENT: What about her?

A STUDENT: What about Ms. Escher?

GARRISON: Kelly’s been seeing her. I think she’s told her about us!

A STUDENT: Garrison, that’s a terrible accusation to make.

KELLY: I think she’s one of them.

A STUDENT: An Old Soul?

KELLY: No. I think she’s a New Soul. I think she’s good!

GARRISON: More likely she’s a spy for some Council of Old Souls!

A STUDENT: We don’t even know if they have a council.

A STUDENT: We don’t even know if they exist!

GARRISON: How else could the world have gotten so awful?

KELLY: Maybe from people like you!

A STUDENT: Look, this is all getting out of hand. When we first got together, all we were going to do was to fight overpopulation and pollution.

A STUDENT: Yes, there’s no reason we can’t forget all this and just, when we grow up, form a foundation or a political party —

GARRISON: Yeah, and look what happened to everybody that tried, from Socrates right down to the Sixties Socialists. Shot down! I tell you, that’s a trap!

A STUDENT: Why don’t we all just live together somewhere quietly, and slowly, gradually take over bit by bit?

KELLY: We could endow schools all over the world that you can only get into if you know some simple password.

A STUDENT: Yes, then when we come back we could go into them, and over the centuries attract more and more of us.

GARRISON: And what if you’re born somewhere the hell out in a desert in a stinking mob of starving refugees? How would you ever learn the password?

KELLY: We’ve got to try! It’s not hopeless. The new souls are being born all the time. Eventually everyone will have a soul again!

GARRISON: You’re crazy!

A STUDENT: Stop calling people crazy! That’s scary.

A STUDENT: Has anybody ever thought that we might all be crazy?

GARRISON: I’ll tell you, I’m not. And I can prove it. Kelly, where’s your term- paper?

KELLY: Oh, leave me alone about my term-paper.

GARRISON: Where’s your book-bag, Kelly?

KELLY: (moving to it) What do you want with my book-bag? You’re nuts.

GARRISON: Here it is!

He grabs the book-bag, opens it, and holds it over the fire. A pencil falls out, nothing else, into the fire,

GARRISON: Anybody here got any doubts where her term-paper is? Or what it is?

KELLY: Yes, I wrote it, I wrote the whole truth and I gave it to her! This has all gone too far. We’re just kids! We need adult guidance.

GARRISON: The only adult guidance the Old Souls will give us is shock therapy!

KELLY: I think she’s new! I think she’s good! I think she can help us!

Ad lib consternation among the Students.

GARRISON: And I’ll tell you all something else. This isn’t the first time she’s done this. I’m not afraid to tell you. She was an officer in Hitler’s highest ranks, and she used a bag just like this to deliver the bomb that almost killed Hitler!

ANOTHER STUDENT: Garrison, you’re out of line!

KELLY: No. He’s right, I did. I was proud of it! I hated what Hitler was after! And I’d do it again! I won’t stand by while anyone tries to take over and run other people’s lives!

GARRISON: You took part in everything we’ve done!

KELLY: Yes, and it was the same in Germany. We all believed in him and helped him and then we realized what a monster he was. Just like you are! We have to make things better! For everyone! Because we might come back as anyone!

GARRISON: No. We don’t have to. And I can tell you all why.

ANOTHER STUDENT: Garrison, I think you’ve flipped.

GARRISON: Think what you like. Just listen. Believe me, I know what Hitler was trying to do. He was trying to kill enough people to form a new Godhead, so we could all see it and leave Earth forever.

KELLY: He was a monster!

GARRISON: No, he was crazy! he was a tool of a lot of evil Old Souls who’d been crazy for a thousand lives. He tortured people before he killed them! Instead of educating them! So they died crazy with pain and couldn’t get together to make the new Godhead! But if a group of souls who knew what they were doing died all at once, and stayed together out there, then we would never have to be born again.

A STUDENT: Kelly’s right. You’re crazy!

GARRISON: Well, whether I’m crazy or not, we all have one problem. Kelly gave our secret to Ms. Escher, and we have to do something!

A STUDENT: He’s right about that.

A STUDENT: That’s true.

STUDENTS: (variously) Come on, Kelly. Where is it? Where is she? Where’s the paper? Tell us, Kelly?

GARRISON: You left it at her office, didn’t you?

KELLY: Yes. I left it at her office. She won’t get it until tomorrow.

GARRISON: Everybody has to get over there and destroy it.

A STUDENT: Why everybody?

GARRISON: Because then you’ll all know it’s done. It’s the only way you can trust each other.

A STUDENT: God, are things that bad?

A STUDENT: I guess they are.

A STUDENT: What about Escher?

GARRISON: She has to go.

KELLY: No!

A STUDENT: What about Kelly?

GARRISON: I’ll stay here and take care of Kelly.

A STUDENT: Not another suicide!

GARRISON: No. Just another unsolved slasher murder.

A STUDENT: He’s right. Let’s get out of here.

A STUDENT: But this is the last murder.

GARRISON: Except Escher.

A STUDENT: All right, but that’s the last one.

GARRISON: Sure.

The History Class scuttle over rocks and to their cars.

GARRISON: Stick together now!

A STUDENT: (in the parking-area) He’s right. Stay close together!

Connie conceals herself.

The Students are seen getting into their cars, slamming doors.

Garrison takes a small box from his pocket, clicks a switch that lights a small red bulb on the box, and presses a button —

– KER-BOOM! The Students’ cars explode, all at once, in a tremendous burst of flame and smoke and noise.

CLOSE ON

Connie, the fire reflecting on her horrified eyes. She would scream, but a hand clamps over her mouth and a strong arm pinions her. We DO NOT SEE who is holding her.

ANOTHER ANGLE

GARRISON: Bon voyage! (to Kelly) We make better bombs, now.

KELLY: You’re crazy!

GARRISON: That’s the last time you’ll say that to me. (he draws a knife) In this life, anyway.

KELLY: (looks for escape) You’ll pay for this in life after life!

GARRISON: (blocking her) There won’t be any more lives! (Waves knife indicating the flaming cars) They’ll make a new Godhead that we can find! (grabbing her) Come on, Kelly. I’ll make it fast. Don’t be a sissy. You’ve died before.

ANGLE ON

Connie struggles to break free, but cannot break her assailant’s grip.

BACK TO

Garrison continues to grasp Kelly. He looks at her, almost lovingly as his hand comes up with the knife.

GARRISON: See you in Heaven. –

Garrison cuts Kelly’s throat while kissing her. Her eyes bulge and roll to the whites as her throat opens into a glistening red. She slumps to the ground.

CLOSE ON

Connie gets her face free from the hand and SCREAMS.

Garrison turns, interested. He looks up and sees her. Joy lights up his face.

GARRISON: Oh, boy. Lesbian schoolteacher slays student – then self!

He starts up at her, leaping like a goat. Connie watches in horror as he gets closer, closer, closer. Suddenly —

– two stones topple over on him, one from either side. He is trapped, bleeding at the mouth.

GARRISON: (dying) See you later…

WIDE SHOT

Connie is in Lee’s embrace.

The Fourth Teacher and the teacher’s lounge Attendant stand on either side, dusting their hands off after having pushed the rocks over.

CONNIE: Lee!

LEE: You can’t even tell when you’re really being followed.

FOURTH TEACHER: Like you can?

LEE: (to Fourth Teacher and Attendant) Who are you?

FOURTH TEACHER Don’t be nosy. I’m an art teacher; here’s excellent new handmade passports and I.D. for both of you. Disappear.

ATTENDANT: (offering a small box) I packed lunch.

CONNIE: (of Garrison) You killed him!

FOURTH TEACHER: I killed him. He killed her. They killed them. What are we, conjugating verbs? Get out of my face. You might get yourselves new ones.

ATTENDANT: It’s best, really.

LEE: Tell us who you are.

ATTENDANT: That would take forever.

FOURTH TEACHER: And hark! I hear sirens.

CONNIE: I have to get Kelly’s tape.

ATTENDANT: There is no tape.

FOURTH TEACHER: There never was.

ATTENDANT: (to Connie) Your bags are in your car.

FOURTH TEACHER: (to Lee) Yours, too.

The Attendant and Fourth Teacher disappear into the darkness and WE HEAR SOUNDS of a CAR STARTING and DRIVING AWAY.

Connie grabs Lee’s hand and they run to their cars.

They climb into their respective cars and drive away.

WIDE ANGLE

of the flaming parking-area, and the camp-fire with Kelly’s and Garrison’s bodies.

EXT. ROADSIDE – (LATER THAT) NIGHT

A dark, anonymous spot outside town. In the distance, sirens and flames.

Connie’s car is parked behind a billboard. We do not see the front of the billboard yet. Lee’s station wagon is by the roadside.

Lee is transferring Connie’s luggage to his wagon. Connie is screwing new license plates into place on his wagon.

LEE: They even gave us credit cards. –

CONNIE: They thought of everything.

LEE: (placing luggage) They’ve probably had practice.

CONNIE: (finishes and stands) Where are we going?

LEE: I hoped you knew.

CONNIE: I don’t know anything.

LEE: We all have to learn, little one.

CONNIE: I don’t even know what I am.

LEE: You’re new.

CONNIE: You knew that?

LEE: I knew that much.

CONNIE: How could you know?

LEE: I was a little kid in Viet Nam. That’s all… I’m one life up on you.

She stands looking at him, trying to drink in her strange new knowledge.

LEE: (holds her close) “I’m nobody. Who are you? Are you nobody, too?

CONNIE: “Then there’s a pair of us. Don’t tell. They’d banish us, you know.”

They look at each other.

LEE: Emily Dickinson must have been new.

CONNIE: If any of this is true, we’ll look her up and ask her.

They get into the car.

LEE: What will we do?

CONNIE: I want to find the communes.

LEE: I don’t think that will be easy.

CONNIE: Easy? Of course it won’t. (she laughs) What were you, born yesterday?

They drive on into the night.

BOOMING UP

to the billboard they were parked behind.

It reads: “YOU MUST BE BORN AGAIN.”

FADE OUT

...

Robert Patrick Playwright – Resume with Links

Robert Patrick Resume

“The Man in the Irony Mask”

(photo by Andrew Adam Caldwell)

ROBERT PATRICK (Born Kilgore, Texas, September 27, 1937), a pioneer in Off-Off Broadway and gay theatre, has published over 60 plays. His first, “THE HAUNTED HOST,” premiered at the legendary Caffe Cino in 1964 and has been the first production of gay theatres from Toronto to Sydney. Samuel French called Patrick “New York’s most-produced playwright of the 1960’s,” climaxing in the 1969 “Show Business” Award for “JOYCE DYNEL,” “SALVATION ARMY, and “FOG,” as well as Rockefeller and N.Y.S.C.A.P. grants.

His directors include Marshall Mason, Lanford Wilson, Clive Donner, and Norman Rene. Marge Champion starred on PBS in his “CAMERA OBSCURA” in 1969. His first collection, “ROBERT PATRICK’S CHEEP THEATRICKS,” was published in 1972. In 1974, “THE HAUNTED HOST” introduced Harvey Fierstein, who also recorded Patrick’s “POUF POSITIVE” and toured Europe with it. In 1974, the international success “KENNEDY’S CHILDREN” won the Glasgow Citizens World Playwrighting Award and productions with Shelley Winters, Sally Kirkland, Kelsey Grammer, Julie Kavner, Julie Hagerty, and Anne Wedgewood. Shirley Knight won a “Tony” in it on Broadway and starred in it on CBS Cable with Jane Alexander, Lindsay Crouse, and Brad Dourif.

In 1974 Patrick contributed three plays in the U.K.’s first season of gay theatre, “Homosexual Acts.” In 1975 Samuel French published his “ONE MAN, ONE WOMAN,” “PLAY-BY-PLAY,” and “THE GOLDEN CIRCLE.” From 1975 he promoted high-school theatre for the International Thespians Society, receiving their 1980 Founders Award “for services to theatre and to youth.” He wrote their playwrighting textbook, “TOOLS, NOT RULES.” In 1976, Marlo Thomas commissioned “MY CUP RANNETH OVER” for herself and Lily Tomlin. It became Patrick’s most-produced play and was included in “The Best Short Plays of 1979.” In 1979 “T SHIRTS” opened New York’s Glines Gay/Lesbian Plays festival and was chosen by editor William M. Hoffman as the first play in “Gay Plays: A First Anthology.” In 1980 Dramatists Play Service published “MY CUP RANNETH OVER” and “MUTUAL BENEFIT LIFE.” In 1981, Calamus press published “MERCY DROP AND OTHER PLAYS.” From 1979 to 1982 Patrick wrote the only column about Off-Off Broadway, “STATE OF THE ART,” for the paper, “Other Stages.” In 1983 and 1986, two consecutive Manhattan Borough Presidents declared “BLUE IS FOR BOYS” weekends in Manhattan (an unprecedented honor) in recognition of the first play about gay teenagers.

In 1988 he published “UNTOLD DECADES,” a comic history of American gay male life. “BREAD ALONE” opened New York’s Wings Theatre. “THE TRIAL OF SOCRATES” was the first gay play produced by the city of New York. “JUDAS,” with Kelly McGillis and Mark Harelik, was the first original play mounted by the Pacific Conservatory Of The Performing Arts. “THE LAST STROKE” won the “Pick of the Fringe” Award at the Edinburgh Festival.

In 1989 “POUF POSITIVE” was filmed by Dov Hechtman.

In 1990 at La Mama E.T.C. Patrick directed his last play in New York, “HELLO, BOB,” about his worldwide experiences with “Kennedy’s Children.” For three years he did original plays at schools and theatres cross-country. In 1993 he settled in Los Angeles, published “EVAN ON EARTH,” and began ghostwriting for television and films.

In 1994 he published “TEMPLE SLAVE,” a novel about the origins of Off-Off Broadway, which has gone into a second printing and been optioned for film. In 1996, he published “MICHELANGELO’S MODELS,” “BREAD ALONE,” and “THE TRIAL OF SOCRATES.” In 1997, he received the Robert Chesley Award for Lifetime Achievement In Gay Theatre.

The Denver Center Theatre Company commissioned Patrick to write book and score for a full-length musical, “ALL AT SEA.” He has written for TV’s “Ghost Story,” “High Tide,” and “Robin’s Hoods,” and ghosted many TV- and screen-plays. Five anthologies feature his short stories. He published many comic poems about theatre in “Playbill” Magazine, and erotic ones in “FirstHand” Magazine, as well as tape reviews in “Adult Video News.” Mister Patrick appears in the videos “Resident Alien,” with Quentin Crisp, “O Is For Orgy: The Sequel,” and “The O-Boys: Porn, Parties, and Politics.” His first work of non-fiction is “FILM MOI,” memoirs entwined with film criticism.

AVAILABLE TO WRITE, GHOST, TEACH
contact: rbrtptrck@aol.com

Awards

• Show Business Magazine Best Play Award, 1969
• Glasgow Citizens Theatre Best World Playwrighting Award, 1973
• The International Thespian Society Founders Award for Services to Theatre and to Youth, 1980 (first openly gay recipient)
• Blue is for Boys Weekends in the Borough of Manhattan, 1983 and 1986
• Robert Chesley Foundation Award For Lifetime Achievement In Gay Playwrighting, 1996
• West Hollywood Gay and Lesbian Advisory Board’s Rainbow Key Award for having been instrumental in the creation of gay theatre and the off-off-Broadway movement, 2008
   
    
  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
  14 ONLINE PLAYS
    
  THE HAUNTED HOST (My first play, 1964):
  https://robertpatrickpersonal.wordpress.com/2009/07/02/the-haunted-host-play-by-robert-patrick/
    
  THE TROJAN WOMEN

  https://robertpatrickpersonal.wordpress.com/2009/07/03/the-trojan-women-play-by-robert-patrick/

    

  THREE COMIC ONE-ACTS

  “Un Bel Di,” “Left Out,” and “Simultaneous Transmissions”

  https://robertpatrickpersonal.wordpress.com/2009/07/03/three-comic-one-acts-plays-by-robert-patrick/

    

  NICE GIRL (In 1967 New Mexico, settled lives become unsettled)

  https://robertpatrickpersonal.wordpress.com/2009/07/03/nice-girl-play-by-robert-patrick/

   

  CHEESECAKE (1966) (Psychedelic skit written for Cino revue)

  http://caffecino.wordpress.com/2008/01/01/cheesecake/

    
  (Illustrated versions of all of  the following plays are available from rbrtptrck@aol.com)
    
  JUDAS (from Pilate’s point of view, 1973)
  https://robertpatrickpersonal.wordpress.com/2009/07/02/judas-play-by-robert-patrick/
    
  MICHELANGELO’S MODELS (just about my favorite of my plays, 1981):

  https://robertpatrickpersonal.wordpress.com/2009/07/02/michelangelos-models-play-by-robert-patrick/
    
  SOUND (has been called “a prequel to ‘Sunset Boulevard,’ ” 1988):
  https://robertpatrickpersonal.wordpress.com/2009/07/02/sound-play-by-robert-patrick/
    
  DELUSION (sci-fi thriller about an expensive private school co-written for the stage from my 1993 screenplay with Billy Houck, 2004)
  https://robertpatrickpersonal.wordpress.com/2009/07/02/delusion-play-by-robert-patrick-and-billy-houck/
    
  HOLLYWOOD AT SUNSET (My last play, 1994)
  https://robertpatrickpersonal.wordpress.com/2009/07/02/hollywood-at-sunset-play-by-robert-patrick/
    
  THE BEAUX ARTS BALL (wives, models, and mistresses of great modern painters–plus a few female artists, too–in a power-struggle in the ladies’ room)
  https://robertpatrickpersonal.wordpress.com/2009/07/03/the-beaux-arts-ball-play-by-robert-patrick/
    
  THE WARHOL MACHINE (1967) (Characterirically eccentric Caffe Cino Play)
  http://caffecino.wordpress.com/2009/05/01/cino-play-the-warhol-machine/?preview=true&preview_id=3414&preview_nonce=6398408130
  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

   2 ONLINE SCREENPLAYS

    
  DELUSION
  https://robertpatrickpersonal.wordpress.com/2009/07/13/screenplay-delusion-by-robert-patrick/
   
  THE WAY WE WAR – Part 1 of 3
  https://robertpatrickpersonal.wordpress.com/2009/07/13/screenplay-the-way-we-war-by-robert-patrick-2/
    
  THE WAY WE WAR – Part 2 of 3
  https://robertpatrickpersonal.wordpress.com/2009/07/13/screenplay-the-way-we-war-by-robert-patrick-part-2-of-3/
    
  THE WAY WE WAR – Part 3 of 3
  https://robertpatrickpersonal.wordpress.com/2009/07/13/screenplay-the-way-we-war-by-robert-patrick-part-2-of-3/
  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^